Come Sweet Death
by Finn Solomon
Summary: Being dead's not so bad if Death needs an assistant. Jamie Keane falls in love with her, despite the law forbidding love between mortals and the Endless. Against Destiny and all odds, they'll try to make it work. Featuring cameos by Gaiman characters.
1. Today is the First Day of Your Life

**Come Sweet Death**

**Foreword:**

Hi guys! Finn here. This fic about Death is one I've been working on for years, and the first one I ever actually tried writing, as a matter of fact. All of my other work has come about as a direct result of trying to write something else to overcome the writer's block faced by this one. Thankfully I've more or less sorted it out, and all that remains is putting pen to paper. (Or fingers to a keyboard)

There doesn't seem to be a lot of stories about my favourite fictional character of all time, the adorable Lady Death, so I decided to write one. There's going to be a lot of conflict, tension, drama, bloody hand to hand combat and all that good stuff, but at its heart is a love story. Let's face it, everyone loves Death. It's hard not to. Thanks for reading, and please leave a review. I'd love to hear what you think of my work, and I'll respond to each one personally.

**Chapter One: Today Is The First Day Of The Rest Of Your Life**

"_Death is a beautiful woman." – Margaret Atwood_, _The Handmaid's Tale_

"_Come on baby, don't fear the Reaper." – Blue Oyster Cult_

Look at her, Death of the Endless, as she hangs high in the air above New York City. At this time, and in this place, it suits her purpose to appear as an achingly beautiful young human woman decked out in solid black, resting comfortably on thin air above the capital of the world.

Not that she always looked like a young woman, of course. On other planets and worlds she assumed a shape that would be familiar to its inhabitants. At other times she had antennae, wings, hands that were crafted from the purest living crystal, lungs that breathed sulfuric gas, eyes that saw in absolute darkness, bodies that dissolved if they came into contact with water. She did her work on a billion trillion worlds, and gloried in the rush of life on all of them, meeting each and every living being personally as they came to the end of their journey in the mortal plane and began the next. Good service, even if she did say so herself.

She loved the variety of it all, the immense spectrum of thought that greeted her as she came to each being. Some welcomed her, having been trained to expect her from the moment they were born. Other beings from atheistic societies were stunned, many of them never expecting a life beyond the one they had just led. A few cultures worshipped her and its members unnerved her a little, but after she had gently but firmly explained that she was not a goddess and their journey did not end at her right hand, thank you, they usually saw sense and moved on.

Throughout her endless existence, she had resisted picking out a favourite world or planet of hers to work in, even in private. She knew her brothers and sisters had places where they had especially enjoyed their work, but she had demurred when her younger brother had asked her this question. She was Death of the Endless. It was expected of her to remain fair and impartial to absolutely everyone. Unlike Lady Justice, who affected a blindfold but could be shaded by so many different points of view, Death was equal to all. She met everyone twice, once at the start of a being's life, and once at the end of it. Many had tried to escape her, but all had known her touch in the end.

So it was with no small degree of puzzlement that in recent times, she found herself drawn to one world in particular. It appeared to be just like any other planet in all respects, sitting at the furthest edge of what was known as the Milky Way Galaxy. 70% water, carbon-based life forms, two sentient species (the dominant one called themselves humans and the named the other one whales, but the whales had a different name for themselves entirely). They had created wonderful works of art and music and culture and were capable of astounding grace, but none were better or more amazing that had already been done on another world. On the other hand they were also capable of acts of astonishing violence, cruelty and depravity, but again none more extreme or shocking that had already been performed on another world. It was a very average planet. Mostly harmless, in fact.

Still, it didn't explain why she enjoyed her rounds on this planet just a tiny bit more than usual. Why she liked meeting the people on this planet more. One rule that she abided by required that she spend one day as a mortal for every hundred years that she spent as the reaper of lives. It gave her a sense of perspective that was sadly lacking in her younger twin siblings. It made her appreciate just how brief and fragile a mortal life can be, yet also how much joy she can experience within those few short hours. It let her truly see the immense influence and power the Endless wielded over the mortal lives they were supposed to oversee.

She never told anyone, but she had been a mortal on that same planet for two times in a row now. For an entity with a billion trillion choices, the fact that she chose the same planet for two times running was significant. But significant of what exactly, she could not say for certain.

This would have surprised her younger siblings, who were used to her wisdom and appreciated her counsel in the rare occasion that they asked for it. But deep down, and there was none better than Death for exploring the secret corners that lurked in one's heart, she knew that she did not hold all the answers. Or rather that she did know, but deliberately shut it out because that way lies madness. Not even her older brother knew how many paths there were in his garden. Death put it out of her mind for the time being.

She closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling of the wind rushing past her and the sun shining on her face. She normally resisted doing so while on work, but it was just too perfect a day not to be floating on the breeze. The sun wasn't too hot, there was no hint of rain, and the clouds were perfectly gorgeous in the blue sky. Even the smog had cleared up a little. Not for the first time she longed to take a day off and just relax, but she was still _the _Death of the Endless, one of the seven anthropomorphic personifications of the forces of the universe. She was needed round the clock, every single day. It wouldn't do for her to be caught enjoying herself too much.

Besides, who else could have taken up the burden if she laid it down?

Death yawned, covering her mouth with a delicate hand. It had been a really long day, relatively speaking. There was her daily toll in the Middle East, a handful of elderly people in Italy, a brutal murder in Mexico, an infant in Kenya, a couple of suicides in Korea and a few soldiers from Afghanistan. It was remarkable, she mused as she stretched her arms and lounged beside a fluffy cloud. She had taken innumerable warriors, heroes, kings and even a god or two, but no one had accepted their fate as bravely as the men and women she had to meet there.

Anyway, there was just one more left, and then she could call it a day. Death drifted lazily along until she reached one busy traffic junction in particular. Swooping down, she landed lightly on her feet and looked around. New York's army of pavement pounders swarmed around her, but no one actually bumped into her. College students, office workers, the homeless, all of them automatically took a little detour when they got anywhere near her.

If you could have seen her, you probably wouldn't have given her a second glance. Wearing black jeans, a tight black T-shirt and sporting stylish black boots and gloves on her feet and hands, she would have looked perfectly at home at a rock concert or on a college campus. Consequently, she could have blended right into the crowds that throng New York, where no fashion is ever deemed too outrageous for words (and all black was considered rather clichéd). But no one sees her. Nobody has the chance to stop and raise an eyebrow at what looks like a funny-shaped silver cross she wears on a leather cord around her neck, although strange jewellery and piercings are practically the norm in this city.

She can't be seen, until she wants to be. She is at this place and at this time for a purpose. She has her duties to perform.

Death waited patiently. The one she's looking for would be coming around in a minute or so. He would be wearing jeans, Adidas sneakers, and a nice blue chambray shirt over a white t-shirt. He'll be listening to Regina Spektor on his iPod Shuffle and not be paying attention to where he's walking. He won't see the truck. He won't have time to get out of the way. He'll be the only one she has to meet here today, the driver and other passers-by will be perfectly fine.

Here he comes, just around the corner.

_I'm gonna be late, damnit!_

Jamie Keane walked quickly, putting one foot in front of the other at a speed which was just below a full-out sprint. A curious cop or a passing superhero would have tagged him as a snatch thief or something, but the fact of the matter was that Jamie was running out of time. As usual.

He ducked and weaved effortlessly in and out of the relentless foot traffic, with a deftness born of long hours of repetition. What a hurried "Excuse me, sir/miss" couldn't do, a quick shove certainly could. Before the offended citizen had time to whip around and grab him, he was no longer there.

The sound of honking cars and ringing bike riders were drowned out by Regina's breathy vocals, plugged directly into his ears. After much thought, Jamie had spent almost all of his last paycheck to purchase a set of Sennheiser earphones, which promised to shut out all ambivalent noise.

It had been a busy day. Jamie had put in a long shift at the comic book store where he clerked, covering for his boss who had called in sick. Jamie suspected that Mr. Palmerston just didn't want to wake up, but as long as he signed the checks Jamie wasn't about to complain. Before that, he had a few hours of classes at the local college, where he was studying American history. His mother was pretty much convinced that he was either going to starve to death on the streets or sell his organs for cash when he graduated, but Jamie liked history and that was all there was to it. Julia Keane made a comfortable living as an executive in an advertising company, and had little time for academia. She said as much the day before.

"Hello dear," said Julia from the dining table, looking up from her laptop. Jamie had emerged from his room to grab a soda.

"Hi mom, didn't hear you come in."

"I'm part ninja."

"Hah, I wouldn't be surprised."

"I've been meaning to ask you, dear. Have you thought about your plans after graduation?

Jamie closed the fridge door and popped the can, considering the question.

"I'm not sure, mom. Look for a job, I guess."

"With the economy in this state? The way your precious president's going, there won't be any jobs left by the time you graduate."

"He's your president too, mom."

"Don't remind me."

"To answer your question, I'd probably teach at a high school. Maybe do some volunteer work, help kids out, you know?"

Julia smiled.

"Volunteer work? You haven't been listening to me, I can see that. Why are you so altruistic?"

"I was raised right?" teased Jamie, taking a swig.

"And don't you forget it. Where on Earth is your brother, by the way?"

"He's in detention. Apparently you aren't allowed to bring snakes into New York State classrooms. Which reminds me, you have a meeting scheduled with Miss Martinez sometime this week."

Julia closed her eyes and massaged her temples. "James Franklin Keane, what have I ever done to deserve what your brother puts me through?"

Jamie chuckled, retreating back into his room. "I don't know mom, but it must have been something awful."

Jamie's little brother Jeff was eleven, nearly twelve, and had one hell of a quick mouth. Jamie liked a laugh as much as anyone, but he despaired at the terrific amount of trouble little Jeffrey seemed unable to extricate himself from on a regular basis. Jeffrey had argued with a teacher. Jeffrey had been beaten up by four older kids. Fairly normal for a New York grade school kid, although Jeffrey later confided in Jamie that he had started the argument with the teacher over a philosophical point, not a personal one. The four older kids had only noticed Jeffrey after he had boasted he could take them all on at once. When that hadn't worked, he'd resorted to making an announcement about them over the public address system.

**Two Months Ago**

"What the hell happened to you?" shouted Jamie, as Jeffrey staggered into their apartment bruised and bloody. The way he was gingerly resting his weight on his right ankle suggested a sprain. One eye was swelling visibly, and his lips were cut in more than one place. Jamie was just about to leave for work. Another five minutes and he would have been out of the place.

"Four guys Jamie," Jeffrey muttered, sinking into the couch. "They beat me up. At the basketball court two blocks from here. They took my wallet too."

"You get some ice for those bruises and wait right here," said Jamie, stuffing his keys into his jeans and hurriedly opening the front door. "When I'm done you moron, you're going to tell me what on Earth you did to start this."

Instead of trying to deny it, Jeffrey just smiled weakly and closed his eyes.

Jamie had ran to the court, ignoring the looks of the passers-by as he pushed past them. With luck he could get there before they left. He saw them the same time they saw him, four guys with bad buzz cuts and New York Knicks shirts, huddling over his little brother's wallet.

"All right, who wants to get his ass kicked first?" Jamie said loudly, closing the chain-link gate behind him with a clang. A dozen games of one-on-one stopped as all the other kids turned to gape at him.

One of the boys had raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Hey man, we don't want any of this. Your little brother started it, it's his fault." Jamie was grimly satisfied to see from the look of fear in his eyes that the little punk knew exactly who he was.

"Oh really? Tell me exactly how it was all his fault," said Jamie pleasantly, sticking his hands into his pockets. Another punk, perhaps emboldened by Jamie's façade of civility, stepped forward. One look told him the fellow didn't know him.

"It's like this. Your little brother's been hounding us all week. Talking trash in school, making fun of us, that sort of thing. But we didn't do anything until he broke into the school's PA room and talked about us over the announce system! He talked crap about how I wasn't good enough for my girl Cheryl. He pushed us, man."

Jamie was seething with anger, but curiously enough, it was mingled with relief. He'd expected much worse, Jeffrey could have stolen something of theirs or burned something down or a hundred other things that his panicked mind could come up with on his way to the court. But this sounded nothing more than childish name-calling, which in turn meant that Jamie could cut loose on them without guilt.

"I see, he pushed you. I must have a word with Jeffrey about that," said Jamie, still playing cool. The punk shot his friends a look of relief. "But before I go…what's that you're crowding around? May I see?"

The look of relief on the young guy's face was wiped off instantly, replaced with one of terror. "It's…it's just his wallet. He uh, dropped it."

"So why are you taking the money out of it?" snarled Jamie, the false calm disappearing in an instant. All four boys jerked uncontrollably, as if a gunshot had gone off behind them. He advanced upon the group, clenching his hands into fists. "The four of you beat my little brother bloody over nothing more than a few insults, you steal his wallet, take his money, and tell me that he pushed you? You know what? I can be pushed too."

Jamie shot his right hand out and was rewarded with the sound of crunching bone as his uppercut landed flush on the nearest guy's jaw. The guy was lifted off his feet and hit the deck, completely unconscious. Without the slightest hint of mercy he went to work, lashing out with his fists and feet, not stopping until the four of them were lying in a moaning, quivering heap at his feet. They were a couple of years younger than him, but there were four of them and they were a couple of years older than Jeffrey. Jamie picked up his brother's wallet and walked away, ignoring the looks of awe the other kids were giving him. They didn't even have time to start chanting "Fight!"

After six hours of stacking books and searching for back issues of Astonishing X-Men for ungrateful customers, Jamie went back home and cornered Jeffrey. By an act of mercy his mom wasn't home yet. His dad would have known what to say, and not for the first time Jamie missed his father. But he wasn't around, and Jamie needed to handle this by himself.

"You got beaten up over a bunch of insults. Jesus Jeff, I thought you grew up a little. Why did you start this?"

"Well…one of those guys, Chuck, he's been going out with this girl I like from Math class. Juanita Hernandez. I've been talking to her, she laughed at all my jokes. Chuck saw us laughing together in the cafeteria, he asked what was going on, I said something that made everybody laugh and made him mad, he told me I was gonna pay, I told him I could kick his ass, his three friends came over, I told them I could kick all of their asses and things kinda…got out of hand from there."

"I'll say. What made you think you could take on all four at once?"

"I don't know, I just thought Juanita would be impressed. And she was. For a while. Now she won't talk to me. I just got off the phone with her. Apparently Chuck just crawled into her house. According to her he'll be eating soup for a month."

"She didn't like that?"

"She told me to fuck off and never speak to her again, actually," Jeffrey said with a rueful grin. The ice had reduced the swelling a little.

Jamie looked at his little brother for a long moment, and began to laugh helplessly. Jeffrey laughed too, mostly at the sight of his usually articulate older brother doubled up on the floor with laughter, unable to say a word.

**Now**

Back in the present Jamie noted that the advertisers weren't lying for once as he dropped a shoulder to avoid colliding into an old lady, and passed a hot-dog stand. The headphones really were rather good. Jamie didn't hear the hot-dog man loudly calling to potential customers. The smell of frying onions hit him full in the face and for a second Jamie was tempted to grab one. He thought it over and kept walking. There was some food in the house and although he could afford it, he didn't like spending money so soon after the headphones.

Besides, his mom wouldn't like it if he had no appetite for dinner. She worked even longer hours than he did at his two jobs as a junior executive in a public relations firm, but always found time to come home and cook them dinner. Dinner as a family was a strong tradition in Julia Keane's view, she believed in it as rocks believed in gravity. She made sure Jamie had enough to eat before he left for his second job (coaching boxing at a local gym for little kids), and Jeffrey usually calmed down enough to spend a peaceful half hour at the table. For a while Julia had set two extra empty places along with their three, but she stopped after a while. She was a practical woman, and knew that grieving had to stop at some point.

**A Week Ago**

"Mom?"

"Yes dear?"

"Where are dad and Joey's plates?"

His mother walked out of the kitchen, carrying a pot of linguine, shrimp and steamed vegetables drizzled with olive oil.

"I've stopped putting out places for them, James. It's been a while now and I think it's about time we moved on. Jeffrey! Dinner!" she called, setting the pot down on the table.

"I know, mom. It's just weird, not to see their places set. That's all." Jamie said, setting the forks and spoons down and clearing away Jeffrey's junk from the dining table.

"James, you know I miss your father very much. I miss Joseph too. I still wake up in the middle of the night sometimes and expect to see your father beside me, or for Joseph to come running into our room like he did as a child."

Jamie snorted. It was hard to picture his big brother Joey as a child. His mom went on as if she hadn't heard.

"I suppose I've cried myself out, dear. We can't grieve forever. It's been said a million times, but death really is a part of life. After the crying's done, we move on. It wouldn't be right for us to break down completely. Your father and Joseph would never have wanted us to do that."

Jeff sat down at the table and started helping himself, chattering away merrily. Julia turned her attention to him, leaving Jamie free to think. Death really was a part of life, but it had been far too frequent a visitor to his family recently. He made a silent promise to always be there for his mom and brother, with a young man's easy confidence in his own immortality.


	2. We Are Playing Live

**Chapter Two – We Are Playing Live**

**NYC**

Jamie didn't hear two schoolgirls laugh and giggle as they shared a joke, but they noticed him coming down the path towards them. One of them smiled flirtatiously at him, liking the look of his toned frame, thick black hair and pale grey eyes. Jamie knew he wasn't outstanding in the looks department, but he did know a thing or two about dressing to accentuate his best features. It was drilled into him by his mom, who had taught him that image was everything. No son of hers would ever look like a slob, she'd told him at one point when he was letting his hair grow past his shoulders and had gone a whole month without shaving.

He flashed a quick smile and hurried onwards. In a different situation he might have struck up a conversation, but it was the wrong time and place. Besides, he had a good thing going on with Morgan, and he'd like to see it through to the end .

Morgan was in a few of Jamie's classes, although she majored primarily in English literature, with a side in rocking out. Her gothic punk cabaret band Lest We Forget had finally corralled the owner of the small club Neil's into letting them play their first gig, and Jamie wasn't about to miss it.

He almost tripped over a small girl lugging a huge furry teddy bear, managing to yell out an apology to her furious mother before getting swept along by the crowd once more. Jamie knew how much the show meant to Morgan, she had kept the band together by sheer force of will after her bassists and drummers came and left in droves due to her insistence that they actually practiced once a week. If she didn't make it big in the music world, Jamie mused, she would make quite a good President.

The club was just ahead. Jamie glanced up and down the street, and dashed across the road, narrowly avoiding a bike messenger.

"Heyfuckyou!"

"Nice to see you too!" he called cheerfully, waving at the man who was looking back at him, one finger raised in the traditional NYC salute. Not looking where he was going, he crashed into the back of a cab and landed on the boot. Barely able to control his mirth, Jamie quickly disappeared into the dark interior of Neil's.

It was a small place, acting as a coffeehouse by day and doubling as a mini-club by night. Other than its versatility, it was also located quite near Jamie's school and Morgan's house. It was in Neil's where they would hang out with their friends, drinking startlingly large amounts of coffee and mapping out their futures. It was in Neil's where they had their first kiss.

"Hello Neil," Jamie called to the owner, a solidly unimaginative man when it came to the naming department. "Have you seen Morgan about?"

"In the back," rumbled Neil, not looking up from his triple latte concoction.

"Thanks."

Jamie wandered to the back, where a storeroom was doing double duty as a backstage area. In the midst of sacks of coffee beans and guitar amps, Jamie found his best friend agonizing over a myriad collection of lipstick tubes in front of a small mirror.

"Miss Murphy, I presume?"

"Jamie!"

Morgan flung her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek.

"I'm so glad you made it! Oh my god look at me, I'm an utter mess. I'm not at all ready!"

"Calm down, Mor. You look wonderful, and I'm sure you'll do awesome tonight."

"Choose," she commanded, holding out a fistful of lipstick tubes. Jamie pointed at one at random.

"Midnight Fuchsia? Not what I'd choose, but it could work."

"Least I could do," said Jamie, pulling up a box of coffee stirrers and sitting on it. "Where are Ollie and Jacob and Truy Phang?"

"I have absolutely no idea, they said they'd be here by now. Our first gig, and they're late! If they mess it up for me, I am going to murder them."

"I hope you weren't talking about me," remarked a small Vietnamese girl, coming into the store room. She heaved a huge bag onto the floor and hugged Morgan.

"Truy has entered the building!" proclaimed Jamie, saluting.

"Oh stop it, Mister James Keane."

"Dear god, you've turned into my mother."

"Shoo! It's bad luck to see a band before their first gig."

"That's for brides."

"It applies. You're in the way, I can't set up my keyboard."

"I know when I'm not wanted," sniffed Jamie theatrically, getting up. "I'll get meself a front row seat then. Break a leg!"

"That's for theatre," called Truy.

"It applies." Jamie left the storeroom, and went to see if Neil would give him a free drink while he was waiting. Converting the Pope would have been far more likely, but Jamie was an eternal optimist.

Fifteen minutes later, the place had filled up considerably. Jamie had begun a massive recruitment drive on Facebook, so most of his friends and Morgan's friends had shown up. Ollie had finally arrived, looking harried and dashing into the back, followed a minute later by Jacob.

Jamie took a long sip from his Long Island Tea and waited patiently at his table, a little to the side. Lest We Forget eventually took to the stage, to a chorus of cheers. Morgan looked taken aback by the size of the crowd. Jamie hadn't told her he was contacting everybody he knew, and she seemed overwhelmed for a minute. Then she spotted Jamie at the corner, and the two exchanged a smile. It was time.

The band played some of their hot numbers, which the crowd seemed to like. Jamie clapped and cheered along with the rest. Then Ollie, Jacob and Truy Phang left the stage, leaving Morgan alone in a spotlight. She cradled her guitar and strummed tentatively.

"This is a song I wrote for a dear friend of mine, and I'd like to share it with you guys." Jamie looked on in disbelief. Morgan hadn't told him she was going to play some of her slower, more thoughtful music, which he liked much better than her normal songs. They were the pieces she would play for him in her bedroom when he would come over whenever her mom was out. They were personal, heartfelt, more poems than songs. Jamie had always encouraged her to play them more often, but Morgan didn't seem to think much of them. Apparently she'd changed her mind.

Jamie listened, spellbound. He knew this song, in fact, he was the first to hear it. Morgan had come up with it after noticing that Jamie shared his initials with a certain President of the United States. Anyone else would think that Morgan was singing about Kennedy, but Jamie knew most of the verses referred to him. He cheered the loudest when she was done.

"Thank you. So much," said Morgan, her eyes welling up with what looked suspiciously like tears. She then hurried off the stage.

Jamie drank a steady stream of mocktails, watching the crowd file out. Neil never had so many customers before. Lest We Forget eventually reappeared, and started packing up their stuff. Jamie went over and took both of Morgan's hands in his.

"That - was unbelievable. You guys rocked hard."

"Thanks Jamie," said Morgan, hugging him tight. They said goodbye to Ollie and Jacob and Truy Phang, where were sharing a cab. Jamie intended to walk Morgan home.

"JFK, huh? I thought you didn't want to play that song live," said Jamie, walking down the quiet street with his arm around Morgan.

"You deserved it. I wasn't expecting so many people. That was so sweet of you Jamie. Thank you."

"Ah, it was nothing," Jamie said modestly. "A few hours on Facebook, a couple of calls..."

"It's the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me."

"Oh, so you've forgotten about that time I accompanied you to get your first tattoo?"

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah."

They walked on in comfortable silence. It was a cold night with a strong breeze and the lights of NYC were glowing all around them. Jamie and Morgan turned into the street that led to her apartment building, across from a little fenced in grassy area where kids liked to play soccer in the daytime. Jamie had spent countless hours there hanging out with Morgan, nominally keeping an eye on Jeff after school.

"Thank you for coming tonight," said Morgan, looking up at him.

"It was my pleasure."

Jamie leaned in and kissed her gently on the lips, just the way she liked it. The sounds of a New York night flowed around them like the waves of the sea. Jamie didn't care. All he could think of was the girl he had in his arms.

"Can I come up?" he whispered breathlessly, after a while. Morgan snuggled her head under his chin. She smelled like cinammon, Jamie noted somewhat fuzzily.

"Okay," she said, and planted a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth.

Jamie grinned, allowing himself to be dragged by the hand as they climbed up the stairs to Morgan's apartment.

Outside her front door Jamie caught Morgan and gave her another kiss, long and deep. She returned it with an unusual hunger, fumbling for the doorknob behind her. Giggling and laughing like a pair of kids, she opened the door and they tumbled into the apartment.

"Enjoying yourself, I see," came a voice from someone at the kitchen table. Morgan gasped with shock and pushed herself away from Jamie, dropping her coat and purse and keys onto the floor.

"Mother? What are you doing here?"

"I live here."

"I thought you were staying over at Derrick's place tonight."

"Yeah, well, I'm not. I'm here. And clearly it was the right thing to do."

Mrs. Murphy was not a physically imposing person. Small, with short hair and dressed in her old pink bathrobe, she looked much younger than her actual age. Yet Jamie knew how frightening she could be. There were loads of times where he had to listen to Morgan rage about her mother after one of their fights. She was very protective of her daughter and disapproved of her band, among other things.

"Is that where you were the whole night? Out with Jamie? Without so much as a phone call or a message to let me know you're still alive? It's two in the morning, Morgan. What the hell were you thinking?"

"I think she switched off her phone -" said Jamie, and was cut short with a single burning glare from Mrs. Murphy.

"Shut up. How dare you bring my daughter out at a time like this, Mr. Keane. I thought better of you."

"You don't tell him to shut up!" screamed Morgan, involuntarily stamping her foot.

"It's okay, Mor, really," muttered Jamie, trying to calm her down. But Morgan wasn't paying attention.

"I had a show, mom. I performed at Neil's and the crowd loved it. People like what I have to say. Why can't you understand that?"

Mrs. Murphy stood up suddenly, knocking over her chair with a loud bang. "You were at a stupid bar playing music until this time of the night? Who knows what could have happened to you? Then you go and bring Jamie home? What were you planning to do, huh? No, don't answer that, I don't want to know. I have had enough of this Morgan. I told you to stop it with the band nonsense and clearly you won't listen to me. What will it take for you to wake up?"

"I'm doing what I love, mom. Why can't you support me like a decent human being?"

"Your father never earned a day's wage in his life chasing his own stupid dreams -"

"I'M NOT DAD, MOM!" Morgan screamed, close to tears. She angrily flung off the hand Jamie placed on her arm. "You always bring this up! So what if he never made it big, he loved what he was doing. Just because you never got to do what you wanted -"

"Only because I had to support that fool while he was off in his fairy-tale world!"

"I can't take this. I don't want to deal with you right now. I'm getting the fuck out of here." Morgan ran out of the apartment, leaving a horrified Jamie alone with her mother.

"I - I - she," Jamie stammered, looking over his shoulder and back at Mrs. Murphy.

"Just go, Jamie. Just leave," she said, sitting back down at the table. She seemed very old and tired all of a sudden.

Jamie left. Morgan had went quite a long way, and it was a few minutes before he caught up with her.

"Oi, you'll freeze to death, night like this."

She refused to look at him, squeezing her hands under her arms to keep them warm. Tears were still running down her cheeks. Wordlessly Jamie pulled off his own coat and put it on her, then hugged her tight.

"She's so bitter. She's just so bitter. She thinks money is all there is in life. Not once has she ever supported anything I ever wanted to do," mumbled Morgan into Jamie's chest.

"Shh. It's all right. It's all right."

"Can't we just run, Jamie? Just get away from everything. We'll leave this town and never come back."

"There's only one person in the world who'd make me do something like that."

"So why don't we? Just run and never stop."

"Because running never solves anything, Mor. You can run to the end of the world and all you've done is to end up right where you started. Your problems are still there, and they won't go away."

"I can't believe you're talking like this. You're sounding like her."

"Morgan I know your mom can be weird about what you're doing. But at least she cares. We both know tons of people whose parents literally couldn't care if they live or die. She could work on her communication a little, but your mom cares."

"Your mom doesn't act like her though."

"You've never seen what happens when I forget to take out the trash?"

Morgan sniffed, and smiled, and punched Jamie.

"Ass."

Jamie held her a little while more, ignoring the cold.

"I love you."

Jamie was shocked. In all the years he'd been with Morgan, she'd never said the words, not much given to sentimentality. He brushed back her hair and looked into her eyes. She looked expectant, and a little bit anxious. Jamie couldn't remember ever seeing her like this, so unsure of herself. He said the words he'd been wanting to say ever since he realised he loved her.

"I know."

Morgan punched him again, harder. "You idiot! I bet you waited ages to do the line! This is so not the time for a Han impression, James Franklin Keane!"

"I'm sorry!"

"What were you thinking?"

"I was going for adorably charming and sweet?"

"Well it did not work!"

"You liar, it so did."

"And you're a jackass!" But she was smiling, and Jamie knew she was amused. He leaned over and gave her another kiss.

"Morgan, I love you too. You know that I've been in love with you for the longest time. I know how you feel about romance and attachment and stuff, so I held off from saying it. But I love you. I really do. I know you have some problems in your life, but hey, everyone does. I want you know I will always be here to help you get through them."

"Jamie, no one's ever said that to me before and meant it."

"I do mean it. I will always be here for you, Morgan. Whatever happens. Believe me."

"I believe you," whispered Morgan.

"And it's because I love you I think we should go back to your place and talk things over with your mom. It won't be easy, but it needs to be done."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Running away's the easy way out, not the right one. My...dad told me that."

"Your dad?" repeated Morgan. Jamie never talked about his dad.

"Yeah. He used to say that all the time. And I think he was right."

"Yeah, okay," she muttered, beginning to walk back to her apartment. Jamie held her hand, swinging it a little.

"Han Solo! God."

"Admit it, you loved it."

"You utter, utter geek."

"Geek in love, we're the best kind."

**Shift**

Not ten feet away stood Death, arms folded, her right foot set firmly forward, rocking her weight a little on her left. If she had been wearing a watch, she would have checked it.

**Shift**

The truck that would end Jamie's life didn't warrant a second glance. It was one of those used to make deliveries, cheap Sony TVs, potted plants, anything you could think of. Painted on one side was a brown cartoon cow, with the words 'We'll mooove anything!' in a speech balloon coming from its mouth. The driver sat at the front with his forearms on the wheel, struggling to keep his eyes open. He had been working the graveyard shift for a week because his partner had called in sick, and pills and coffee could only do so much. He had been drifting off and jerking back awake for some time now, but he had just one last delivery to make, then he could go home. That delivery would never be completed.

Could it have been avoided? Definitely, but the most vengeful of investigators would have been hard-pressed to detect any amount of malice or forethought in the driver's actions. A split second of sleep is a dangerously long period of time while driving. Time enough to mix up your footing and hit the accelerator instead of the brakes, for instance.

"We made a statue of us," sang Jamie loudly. They were coming to a corner of the street where Morgan lived.

"And we put it on a mountaintop," Morgan continued, not missing a beat.

"Let tourists come and stare at us."

"Blow bubbles with their gum, take photographs for fun..."

Death watched as the roar of the truck's engine signified that something had gone wrong.

"They'll give us a talking to, they've got years of experience!" sang Morgan, turning around to look at Jamie.

Jamie wasn't looking at her, and that's why he died. He saw the truck instead.

The truck swung violently to the left and the driver woke up, realising in the pit of his heart what had gone wrong. He grasped frantically for the wheel, but not fast enough. The front wheels hit the curb and Jamie had a split second to react. Without thinking, without feeling, body moving as though on auto-pilot he shoved Morgan out of the way and was thrown forward violently in the next instant as he was struck by the fender.

He crashed against a row of iron railings. In the split second before the driver slammed on the brakes, heart racing in terror, Jamie was caught between two unyielding walls of iron. Between the hammer and the anvil the human body can do nothing against such force. His ribs are smashed against the railings, and one splinters into his beating heart. There is a dull crack as his spine snaps under the weight of the trucks front bumper. Jamie didn't cry out as a rush of darkness floods his vision and a sensation of horrific pain and cold overwhelm his entire body. He didn't have the time.

A trail of blood began to trickle from beneath the front of the van, shining wickedly in the moonlight. Morgan sat up shakily, not daring to believe what had just happened. She saw the blood. Morgan looked without seeing, not believing, her heart pumping fit to burst.

Then she screamed.


	3. Life After Death

**Chapter 3 – Life After Death**

Jamie opened his eyes.

The eternity of agonizing, blinding pain had finally passed. He had spent years screaming as he felt his chest split apart, ripped asunder by his broken ribs. He had passed _decades _moaning in terror as he understood that the snapping of his spine meant that he would never be able to move again. That's what it felt like. An eternity. Death was eternity.

But if he was dead, why was he lying on something that felt suspiciously like a New York sidewalk?

Jamie rubbed his head, and realized with a shock that he _could _move. He patted down his chest, feeling solid muscle and flesh, same as always. No torn chest, broken ribs and definitely no punctured heart. He felt his head again. Same as ever, no cracked skull. He twisted around and touched his back. His spine seemed to be in perfect working order. The accident had already taken on the characteristics of a half-remembered dream. He still recalled the pain and what it had felt like, but at a distance. One thing seemed definite. He didn't appear to be dead.

Jamie sat up. He was wearing the same clothes he had on just before the accident. Of his iPod, wallet and other belongings there was no sign. He patted himself down all over again, in the manner of a man who has discovered a valuable item whom he thought was previously lost and is checking to make sure it was still there.

He felt perfectly fine, as ridiculous as it seemed. A nagging cough that had troubled him for a week seemed to have disappeared entirely. The only difference as far as he could tell was that the world seemed quieter than normal. The sounds of a typical New York night were muted somehow, little more than a murmur at the edge of his hearing. The moonlight and street lights were a little less bright, as if someone had placed a filter over the world. The wind seemed to have died down somewhat, even though Jamie could clearly see the leaves rustling on the trees. He looked around shakily, trying to get his bearings.

A delivery van had gone off the road and came to rest against an iron fence, having knocked over a lamppost in the process. Shattered glass and twisted metal were strewn about every which way. A pool of blood had formed on the sidewalk, the trail leading to the front of the van.

It all came back to him in a moment, the cold realization slamming into his brain like an icepick. He remembered seeing the truck hurtling towards Morgan and had reacted instinctively, without conscious thought.

He had to look, if only to assure himself that all this just wasn't some kind of dream. He moved forward, trying to see what exactly was sandwiched between the van and the fence, which was difficult because there was so much blood all over the place...

"Um, you might not want to do that."

Jamie turned around to see who had spoken. It was a pretty young woman with an affection for dark clothing, the picture of poise standing all alone in the middle of the street. She met his glance and gave him a little wave, and started walking towards him. Jamie observed every confident step with simple admiration. For a moment, he forgot where he was and what had happened to him. He couldn't remember having seen a more attractive girl in all his life.

"It's not really pleasant, you know. Most accident scenes aren't. Oh wow, this is never easy."

"Hello," Jamie said slowly. The girl had a sweet, cheerful voice. You could sense that she laughed often whenever she felt like it and didn't care if someone disapproved. She was petite, the top of her head barely rising above his shoulder even though Jamie wasn't particularly tall. She moved her head a little as she spoke, causing her waves of black hair to ripple invitingly. Jamie suddenly had a ridiculous urge to run his fingers through it and find out what it felt like. The girl kept her hands in the pockets of her black jeans, so he didn't offer his in greeting.

"Have we met before?"

"Only once, but you probably don't remember me."

"That can't be right. I would have remembered you," said Jamie, smiling dazedly. Then he mentally kicked himself. Five minutes ago he was kissing someone whom he thought was the love of his life, and now he was flirting with some random girl who appeared out of nowhere.

But then she laughed delightedly and easily, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world for Jamie to join in. Her eyes, deep and dark, twinkled cheerily. He noticed a stylized make-up pattern at the corner of her left eye, a little mascara trail that looped down and curled back up again. Her full lips were delicately painted with black lipstick, a fashion that on other girls Jamie would have found pretentious, but it looked strangely right on her. It contrasted strikingly with her very pale skin, fairer than any other girl he'd seen before. Jamie fought to focus.

"Morgan! What happened to her? Is she okay?"

The girl gestured to the scene. An ambulance had arrived and the paramedics were trying to extract a mangled body from under the front wheels of the truck. Despite the blood, the clothes looked strangely familiar, even from a distance.

Then he saw Morgan, wearing his jacket and being talked to by a couple of police officers. Her shoulders were shaking uncontrollably and tears were running down her face. Her mother was beside her, trying to calm her down. It didn't look like she was succeeding.

Jamie yelled and waved, but no one gave him so much as a glance. He tried to touch Morgan but his hand passed through her as if she was a well-made hologram.

"He saved my life. I don't believe it. I should have died instead, it's my fault he's dead," sobbed Morgan, wiping away her tears furiously with the sleeve of Jamie's jacket.

"It's not your fault, Mor. It's not your fault," said Jamie helplessly, and watched as her mother repeated his words.

"It's not her fault. It's mine."

Jamie walked away in a daze. The memory of his foolish promise came back to him again.

_I'll always be there for my mom and Jeff._

_I'll always be here for you Morgan._

The girl in black was waiting nearby, a sympathetic expression on her face. "I'm sorry, Jamie. I really am. I see this again and again. It never gets easier."

"Just who are you supposed to be anyway?" said Jamie, turning his back on the accident scene.

"I'm Death. I've come to take you away."

Jamie nodded calmly. He'd just died. Okay. He was walking and talking, but apparently dead. So far, this was more than he'd expected out of death. He tried to speak.

"Is this the afterlife?" he asked, relieved to hear his voice sounding less choked.

"Not really. I suppose you could call it the point just before the afterlife. You're not quite there yet."

"So there is an afterlife after all?"

Death shrugged her shoulders. "I don't really know. That's something you have to find out for yourself. My involvement strictly ends at this stage."

"No kidding?"

"Not even a little."

"Wow. Um, mind if I sit down?"

"Go ahead," said the young girl who claimed to be the personification of death. She settled down on the sidewalk and crossed her legs demurely. Jamie sat down beside her and tried not to stare. The girl…Death…seemed completely at ease. If she was a weirdo who was setting all this up for some kind of sick joke, she didn't seem particularly nervous about it.

The last vestiges of the evening breeze ruffled her hair and Jamie breathed in her scent. It was fresh, clean, and seemed wonderfully unsuited for a being billions of years old and traditionally associated with decay, rot and despair.

"Aren't you supposed to be an angel? Why the Goth get-up?" he asked eventually.

"I'm not an angel, I'm just who I am. And I'm dressed like this because I like how it looks," explained Death patiently, although privately she was impressed. Few people remained as calm as Jamie did after the big moment. Some were hysterical, screaming in imagined pain but with very real fear. Some flatly denied that they were dead and tried to run away, only to find that the world wasn't as solid as it once was to them. Still more, usually religious people were actually insulted by her appearance and demanded to see the "official" representative. She dealt with all of them with the patience carefully cultivated from countless millennia of experience, and brought them over to the other side in the end.

Jamie was staring off into the distance. Death leaned back casually, resting her elbows on the pavement. The number of pedestrians had grown even larger, but the people still managed to take a detour around the pair of them. The noise of the city night grew quieter and quieter, until there was barely any noise.

"I'm dead. I've died. I thought…I just thought…this can't have happened. Why now?" Jamie mumbled. Death didn't say anything. Of course, he couldn't remain cool and calm forever. This happened sometimes. It was best to let them get it off their chests.

Morgan. I...I think I love her. I thought we were going to be together forever. She's...got problems, you know? She told me I was the only one who bothered to listen to her. Now I'm dead, and what's gonna happen to her?"

"I -"

"Do you know what I told my little brother just last night? I said I would always be there for him. I told him he didn't have to worry about a thing, as long as I was around. What's he going to do when he finds out? What's going to happen to him? What's going to happen to the people I love?"

"No one can know someone else's story," Death said gently. "All you can do is to live your own. It's time to close this chapter of your life. Take my hand."

"If I do take your hand," said Jamie, still not looking at her, "Does it mean I won't be able to see Jeff again? Or Morgan? My mom?"

"Your mother and brother have their own lives to lead. So does Morgan. You have to carry on by yourself, as they will," said Death.

"So you're saying I won't see them again."

"In all likelihood, no."

"What about Heaven? Don't I get to meet them again in Heaven?"

"That's something you have to find out by yourself."

"I've never been much of a religious person anyway. I'd prefer to stay where I am, thank you," he said politely, looking into her wonderful eyes again, although now they expressed slight exasperation.

Death raised an eyebrow. "Really. Why?"

"At least if I stay here, I can still see them. You know, watch over them and stuff. Try to talk to them, tell them things. I don't want to leave without saying goodbye. Please, I just can't leave them without at least saying goodbye," Jamie replied, his voice wavering a little near the end.

"What do you think you're going to do? It's not like that movie with Demi Moore. You can't interact with anything or communicate with anybody when you're dead. You'll just be…lost. Wandering around with nobody to talk to. Trust me. This is not what's best for you."

"Miss Death," said Jamie. "Most of my life people have been telling me what's best for me. Nine times out of ten they've gotten it wrong. You seem like a very nice person, and don't take this the wrong way, but there is no way in hell I am leaving without first setting things straight."

Death sighed resignedly. "There's nothing I can say that would make you change your mind, is there?"

"Nope," said Jamie comfortably, settling down on the curb. He felt better now that he had made up his mind. He was sure that Death meant well and all, she seemed surprisingly genial for a grim reaper, but she didn't understand him. Not really. Jamie made it a point to keep his promises. It was how his father had raised him. He wouldn't break this one for any reason, not even loss of life and limb.

"Okay, whatever. It's your life. It's late and I really should be going. I'll come by later when I've got the time, if you change your mind."

"All right. See you around."

Death was beginning to get irritated by his offhand manner. "Don't get too comfortable. Watch out for the restless dead. New York's not so nice by night."

"What restless dead?" asked Jamie, sitting up suddenly.

Silence greeted his question. Death had vanished, leaving Jamie alone. Even the faint murmurs had deadened to absolute silence, and he realized he could no longer feel the wind.

**Shift**

Death strode through the planes of existence, barely noticing each one as they whipped past her. Some of them defied human explanation or comprehension, filled with more wonders than the last. All of them were accessible to her. Anywhere living beings existed, there she would be when the time came. She reached the void between the worlds, a bleak lonely place filled with nothing but howling, freezing winds. A moment later, she arrived at her own realm, the sunless lands.

The sunless lands weren't exactly dark and gloomy. On the contrary, there was plenty of light. It just seemed to come from the sky itself rather than an actual star. Sometimes it shone brightly on the wide fields and rolling hills that made up her domain. At other times it would gradually dim to a very faint glow, until it could almost be mistaken for a cloudy night on Earth. A light breeze rippled the grass and rustled the leaves on the few trees that dotted the landscape. Aside from them there were no other living things in her realm. No birds wheeled in the sky overhead, no insects buzzed or crept amongst the flowers and grass. It was silent and still, but full of the peace that Death had come to love.

A single house stood on top of a small hill. It had two floors and a small garden around it, but no fence or gate. Death walked inside and shut the door. She adored her little house and its humble simplicity. She had tried a variety of other residences over the years, but they had never felt quite like home to her. For instance she once had a massive castle with soaring battlements and towers battered by a permanent, raging storm, but it was much too big for a single person and she always had trouble finding her tea cup when she wanted it. Her brothers and sisters had their own grand places and palaces, but she stuck to her cottage in the fields. It was the ideal place to kick back after a long hard day of work.

She removed her boots and gloves, tossing them onto the floor and stretched out on her long red couch. Her pet goldfish Slim and Wandsworth swum lazily in a small bowl on the coffee table beside her. As she reached for the bottle of fish food they began to circle around each other with excitement.

"Here you go, guys," Death said fondly, shaking a few flakes into the water. She lay back on her couch again and stared up at her ceiling.

There was something about that last young man that nagged at her. More than anything, the cool way he had told her that he was staying was far more composed than many others could have managed. There were those over the centuries who had also wanted to stay, of course, but they were usually very rude about it. They'd also begged for her to help them move on after a few days or so. It was rare that a mortal could cope with more than a few days of not being able to be seen by anyone except the restless dead. Some of them had even gone mad trying to escape the shambling horrors.

Jamie had ticked her off a little, but a woman her age really should know better. Besides, he wouldn't be half as cool and collected after his first sight of one of them. They could be onto him right this minute.

Death rubbed her eyes with her knuckles and yawned widely. She was getting as sentimental as her younger brother. After all, it was just one mortal. She might drop by when she had the time, but for now, sleep beckoned. Death slid off her couch and traipsed up the stairs to her bedroom, putting Jamie Keane out of her mind.

Death spent the next few months hard at work, walking around the universe and doing her job. She had a nasty few days dealing with an entire civilization which had nuked themselves to death, severely testing her patience and self-imposed rule not to pass moral judgments on the beings she took. Still, it was hard not to give their leaders a piece of her mind as she unceremoniously crossed them over, with none of her usual affability.

Then she had a tough time with a tribe of talkative creatures which had starved to death, and who wouldn't shut up when she appeared. She couldn't get a word in edgewise and had to use sign language to get them to understand her. All things considered, it was something of a relief to swing by Earth again. She went from continent to continent, collecting her toll. Almost absent-mindedly, she headed for New York once more.


	4. Job Offer

**Chapter Four – Job Offer**

**NYC**

Death stopped by a homeless man who had frozen to death on the sidewalk, and listened to his curses until he had calmed down and composed himself. Before she could take his hand, however, one of the restless dead lurched down the street towards them, groaning horribly.

A man in an expensive business suit was shuffling towards them. His eyes were glazed and specks of blood dotted the lapels of his shirt. His mouth was a dark, ragged hole and most of the back of his skull was missing.

"Good Lord! What in God's name is that thing?" yelled the homeless man, diving to one side and attempting to hide behind a trash can.

"Not to worry Mr. Grant, I'll take care of this," said Death, raising her arms. Before she could do anything however, a powerful shout behind the walking corpse made it stop in its tracks and look around.

"Oi, you! I can see you, dead man walking! Get out of here and don't bother him. You heard me, get lost!"

To Death's amazement, Jamie Keane was striding forward without any apparent fear of the restless dead man in front of him. It leered at Jamie, who stared back with deliberate poise. The man suddenly lurched forward and grabbed the front of Jamie's jacket. His only response was to grasp the man's arm and firmly wrench it away from himself. The suicide looked shocked, insofar as much as he could look with half his face gone, and shambled off again.

"Suicide, I'll bet. Some of these big business types don't know how to deal with high stakes. At least, when they're winning everything's fine. It's the losing they have trouble with. Oh, you're back. I was wondering when I'd see you again. Nice hat."

"Um, hi Jamie," said Death. She adjusted her deep purple silk top hat, settling it more firmly on her hair. "Are you okay?"

"Aside from the fact that I'm dead? Yeah, I'm all right, I suppose. It hasn't been much fun, though. I quickly found out what you meant by the restless dead. I feel like I'm trapped in _Resident Evil _part six. Then I found myself wondering when a freaky little girl with psychic powers or a huge badass with a sword as long as my arm and a pyramid for a head would show up," Jamie quipped, mentally kicking himself at the lameness of his joke.

"They wouldn't be here, they're elsewhere-" began Death, not noticing the way Jamie's face suddenly blanched with shock at her words. But before she could go further, the homeless man had recovered and interrupted her.

"Thank you young man, you got rid of that demon sure enough. And now miss, what happens next?"

"Oh, I'm sorry Mr. Grant. Take my hand."

The man hesitated, but then grasped Death's hand firmly. He faded, and then vanished. She noted that she appeared to be at the exact same traffic junction where she had left Jamie on the pavement all those weeks ago. Night had fallen, and the stars were beginning to shine where New York's cloudy night sky had cleared in places.

Jamie faced her, hands stuck deep into the pockets of his jeans. Death discreetly observed him. He didn't appear to be suffering from any intense stress or fear.

"Why didn't I end up like them?" asked Jamie. "I mean, if I'd looked like how I did at the moment of my own death I'd probably be a puddle of blood or something."

Once again, Death was impressed. Jamie was remarkably quick on the uptake, although he admittedly had a few weeks to think over his new circumstances. She was more surprised that he had managed to resist becoming insane and savage like the other restless dead, over such a long period of time.

"You look like how you expect yourself to look. That guy was probably thinking of his own death so intensely before he pulled the trigger that he's carried that image of himself over to this side. He's another one who doesn't want to move on, but there's little good he can hope to do here. I try to help them, of course, but they just won't listen."

"Was that comment meant for me?" said Jamie lightly.

"Was it?" Death countered. "It might have been. It's awful hard to keep hold of your own identity for more than a few days. You might turn into one of them. Even if you don't, I just don't see what you'll hope to achieve by staying on. There's nothing left here for you, Jamie."

"You know, you were right," said Jamie, unexpectedly changing tack. "I went back and tried to see my mom and Jeff, but no matter what I did they couldn't see or hear me. I wish I could have said something to them. Mom broke down, just collapsed. I mean, after my dad and Joey…I thought she could handle just about anything. She's so strong. But this thing was just too much for her. She hasn't been to work in days."

Jamie paused for a while before continuing.

"Jeff was great though. He tried to calm mom down and comforted her and everything. He didn't even cry, and he's just thirteen. He's all that she has left, she can't lose him too. But he can't keep this up forever, he's just a kid. He's just a goddamn kid."

"You don't know that. Maybe Jeff can take it. It's hard, but as far as I know he comes from a pretty tough family. He might be able to take on the responsibility once he's had some time to adjust. There might not be anything else you can do for him," Death said. She noticed he didn't say anything about his girlfriend.

Jamie looked ready to argue, and then the fight went out of his eyes. He nodded resignedly.

"So, that's it then? I just take your hand and vanish? So long and thanks for all the fish?"

"Adams. Great writer."

"Oh, you like him too? He's fantastic."

"Yeah. Nice guy. We had a very enjoyable discussion about what became of Marvin the Paranoid Android."

"You've met him – oh, right. Of course you did."

"I'll say this for Adams," said Death, smiling slightly. "He didn't waste half as much time as you did taking my hand."

"It's a nice hand."

"Thank you. I think so too."

"The thing about taking your hand...and don't get me wrong, I've thought hard about this, is that once I do it, it'll all be over for me."

"Not necessarily."

"Didn't you say that whatever I believe, that's what will happen to me?"

"I did?"

"You see, if that's true, it really will be all over for me. I never had much truck with religion before."

"So what you're saying is…"

"It's oblivion for me. Zero zip nada. Infinite nothing, forever and ever. And Jesus Christ, that sucks _hard._"

"I'm not sure that's what will happen. And I thought you said you didn't believe in religion."

"It was an expression."

"Maybe you could try getting religion now?"

"What, when I'm right at death's door? I don't think God will like that very much."

"I thought you said-"

"Expression!"

"I know, I know. Just messin' with you."

"Real funny."

They lapsed into comfortable silence. It wasn't awkward, and Jamie was amazed at that simple fact. He felt as though he'd known this pretty young girl for years and years. He'd had friends whom he had not talked as much with as he had just done with her.

"So if you won't take my hand, and you don't want to stay here, what do you want to do?" Death asked reasonably. She took off her hat and tucked it under her arm.

"What if I work for you?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Death asked incredulously.

"Give me a minute, just hear me out. There must have been other people who have tried this sort of thing. People who've made bargains with Death and so on? I mean, if you're real then maybe some of those old stories are real too."

"You've been reading way too much medieval literature."

"But there have been others, right?"

Death blew her fringe out of her face in exasperation. She thought of an English villager whom she had not taken, as a favor to her brother long ago. She thought of her nephew and his doomed love. She thought of two dead English schoolboys. She thought of a young lesbian mother and the deal she had agreed to recently. It was similar, or at least the intent was similar. To save a loved one. It had ended well enough, she supposed. But Jamie was asking a lot and she didn't know if she could grant what he asked for.

"Let me just be clear on this. When you say work with me, what exactly do you mean?"

Jamie had noticed her hesitation and responded enthusiastically. "I knew it! There have been others who've asked for the same thing. I'm offering to do more. I'll work for you, I'll help you in any way I can. I don't want to move on without having accomplished _something _with my life. That's all I'm asking. That's what I promise."

"You're kidding me."

"Not even a little."

Now Death wasn't exasperated at all. She was stunned. In all her long years, not one being had ever offered to work for her. Asked favours, yes, but not to help her undertake her duties. It had never occurred to her to share her immense duties and responsibilities with someone else, let alone a mere mortal from this young planet. The job took a lot out of you, and it had taken several million years before she taught herself to find satisfaction in what she did. It was tough, but she had gotten there in the end. She shuddered as she remembered the person she had been before. Arrogant with the power she wielded, cold with the secret knowledge she possessed. She feared something like that would happen to Jamie. She would not allow it to happen.

"You're asking me to give you a job? _My _job? Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds?"

"No!" sputtered Jamie, and winced when he saw Death's eyes widen at the force of his response. "I mean, I know it's a lot to ask but I can't just let it all end here. Please, I need to do this."

Death thought it over some more. It would be nice to have someone around to talk to. As great as they were, Slim and Wandsworth were not excellent conversationalists. She wouldn't have admitted it to anyone, not even her brother, but her house did get a little lonely at times with no one around. She didn't have much free time, but it would have been nice to spend the time she was at home hanging out with a friend.

And there was the job. She didn't think about it much, but the job really weighed on her mind sometimes. It was one reason she loved her once a century incarnations and looked forward to each one eagerly. It was a chance for her to get away from it all and just take a break from overseeing the multiverse.

Jamie was watching her carefully. Death weighed everything up, twisting a strand of hair around her finger. Maybe it was time to take a risk. Jamie had proven himself capable of resisting the worst horrors of what death could throw at him. What's the worst that could happen?

"You're serious about this, aren't you. I mean, you really are. You really want to work with me." It wasn't a question.

"I do. Please believe me."

"I believe you," Death said softly. "It's just…I don't know if I can do this. There are rules. Boundaries. Things that not even I can just wave aside."

"I don't want you to overstep anything for me. I just thought that if it was in any way possible…"

There was a nagging doubt in the back of her mind. It was her family. Her younger brother, and all the problems he had with mortals. Her younger twin siblings, and what they would say and do once they found out. Her other younger brother, who had felt the weight of his responsibilities far too keenly and elected to leave it all behind. She hadn't begrudged him for his decision, but lately she wondered if she was headed down that path herself. She didn't think she ever would abandon her job completely, but it wasn't too much to ask for a little help. Was it?

And there was the question of her elder brother. But she could deal with that when the time came.

"Jamie Keane."

"Yes?"

"Right now, at this moment...what do you really believe in?"

"Me? When it comes down to it...I believe in you. I don't exactly know what's happened to me, or what's going to happen next. Maybe I'm not even dead yet and all this is just some random hallucination from my dying brain. But I don't believe that. The fact that you're here in front of me, talking to me shows there is so much to the universe that I don't understand. I believe now that death is not the end."

Death smiled.

"Good answer."

"What happens now? Do I have to perform some sort of dark ritual, shed blood maybe, chant something in Latin?"

"Ew, gross! Nothing like that, and Latin isn't all it's cracked up to be. Just take my hand," Death said, and winced as she realised her mistake. Jamie was looking askance at her. "I wouldn't trick you like that. I'm not going to cross you over, I'm taking you back to my place for now. It's been a really long day and I need to get some shut-eye."

"You sleep?" asked Jamie, slipping his hand in hers without further complaint. Her skin was almost unnaturally smooth, but warm as well. It was the first bit of warmth Jamie had felt since dying.

"Whenever I get the chance, which admittedly isn't all that often," said Death, gracefully ascending up into the night sky. It was rather like climbing an invisible staircase. Jamie trailed after her, holding on to her hand. He wasn't dangling by her arm, but he wasn't floating either. It was as if he had the same ability to fly himself, and was merely following wherever she went.

"Hold on. This might get rough."

With a rush of wind and a deafening noise that shrilled in his ears, Jamie and Death disappeared from New York. The dimensions swirled around them, and Death moved in and out of each one as quickly and as easily as a fireman hopping down the rungs of a ladder. She didn't spare them a second glance, but instead looked at Jamie. His face was rapt with wide-eyed wonder. No mortal had ever seen all of the planes of existence as quickly as he had, but he was still fascinated by each brief fleeting image as they flashed before his eyes.

A hammer blow rocked Jamie's body, and he was suddenly in the void between the worlds. He shivered uncontrollably, his teeth clattering together and his face turning blue. Even though he had felt the cold touch of death, it was nothing compared to the absolute freezing nothingness of the void. Death frowned and waved her fingers in a complex pattern. Great swathes of darkness appeared out of nowhere and enveloped Jamie, shielding him from the terrible cold. It was as warm as a heavy winter jacket and had a velvety texture when Jamie stroked it.

"I'm sorry about that," said Death. She spoke in her normal tone, but it somehow cut through the howl of the winds easily and Jamie heard her perfectly. "Are you alright?"

Jamie couldn't answer, but he was shivering less violently. He managed a ghost of a grin.

Seconds later they touched down on soft grass. The wind had died down and the scent of flowers filled the air. Death's realm looked an awful lot like the English countryside to Jamie. He had been there once with his family, when it was still whole and unbroken. A full two weeks of camping out on hills and eating at small inns and townhouses, getting "Back to Nature", as his dad had put it.

"_Yes sir, nothing like Nature."_

"_Nature, Bob?" Jamie's mom said, with feigned annoyance. "All I see are boring hills with no shops in sight. We should have spent some more time in London."_

"_Now Julia, you know this is so much better. Fresh air, clean grass, good simple food. Everything a man could hope for."_

"_How about TV, beer and pizza delivered to your doorstep?" she retorted, grinning wickedly at her sons._

"_Yeah dad, I thought we were going to spend some time in a hotel," Joey piped up. Julia gave him a discreet low five._

"_All right, all right. We'll check into one tomorrow. But we're sleeping on the ground tonight!" Robert Keane declared and was immediately tackled by his three sons, laughing as he went under a pile of tangled arms and legs. Julia fumbled for her camera and snapped off a shot, capturing the moment. Jamie had noticed the same photograph sticking out of his dad's wallet some time later. He carried it wherever he went._

"Penny for your thoughts?" Death asked, looking curiously at him.

"It's nothing," Jamie said, fighting a wave of emotion that always hit him when he thought of his family. "Um, this might be a stupid question, but what should I call you? I mean, how do I address you?"

"That's interesting," mused Death, setting off through the grass. "I've never really thought about it before. My siblings usually call me elder or younger sister as the case might be, and the Eremite clan has all sorts of nasty names for me, but I've never been around someone long enough to need a name on a regular basis, you know? Even Death doesn't sound exactly right, it's more like my job description. It's also not the only thing I do in the course of my work."

_Siblings? Eremite clan? _Jamie was struggling to keep up.

Death thought of a young man named Sexton, and remembered the wonderful day they had shared together. She had a name then, and although it wasn't her real one she supposed it would serve.

"Tell you what," she said brightly, striding steadily through the grass. "You can call me Didi."

"Didi. I like it."

They reached her house. Jamie stopped and stared.

"This is where you live?"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, but if someone had asked me what Death's house looked like, this wouldn't be what I expected!"

"Why, what were you expecting?"

"A huge castle, maybe. A mausoleum. A necropolis. Something like Minas Morgul."

"Seriously? Would you want to live in any of those places?"

"Well no..."

"That's right. Neither do I. Besides, it's a lot easier to maintain, and a huge castle would look pretty silly considering I'm the only one around, wouldn't it?"

They reached her house, and once again Jamie was struck by how normal it seemed. This time he was strongly reminded of Kansas, or one of those Midwestern states where a single house would stand in the middle of endless fields, far as the eye could see. Although there didn't seem to be a setting sun in the sky, the light was fading fast. Death pushed the door open and motioned for Jamie to come in.

Jamie hung up his jacket on a stand in the corner (he was still wearing the clothes he had on at the time of his death) and took his first look around. A long, low red couch sat in front of a quaint brick fireplace, the type you see in English townhouses. A goldfish bowl sat on a cream-coloured coffee table. A couple of bookcases stood near the couch, the shelves filled with an eclectic mix of books of every language. The kitchen was set in one corner, with a small dining table in the middle. A few paintings hung on the walls, along with what looked like a group snapshot of Death and six other individuals. An open cupboard under the staircase caught Jamie's eye, it appeared to be stuffed with a huge collection of black and purple floppy hats. Apart from the conspicuous lack of electrical appliances (Jamie couldn't see a TV or a computer anywhere, although there was a CD player on a side table and electric lights brightened up the cozy little place), it looked exactly like a normal place of residence for a single young woman.

He immediately felt much more comfortable. As strange as it seemed, the little house already felt like home to him.

"Just hang your stuff up anywhere. Take your shoes off, please. Guest bedroom's upstairs on the right, Death said, climbing up the stairs to her room.

"Okay. See you in the morning." Jamie pulled off his trainers and lowered himself down onto the couch, letting his breath out in one long, exhausted sigh. When he heard the soft click of Death's bedroom door, when he was certain that no one could see him, he buried his face in his hands and wept silently, for the final time, for his mother and brother and the family he had lost.


	5. The Guild

**Chapter Five – The Guild**

**Location Unknown**

They were men and women gathered around a table. Throughout the ages, there had always been men gathered around a table. Behind nearly every great war or conflict or times of enormous social and political upheaval, if you looked hard enough, you could find the men gathered around a table. Perhaps they did not cause the event to happen, but they would convene to discuss how things could best serve their interests. They had goals. They had plans. They had great and terrible ambitions.

Usually such groups were little more than a bunch of disgruntled people angry at their lot in life, hankering for anything that would set themselves above and apart from their fellow men. Anything to be special. They usually did not succeed.

The thing about this particular group was that they didn't try to dress things up. They didn't try to convince themselves that they possessed secret and infernal knowledge. The other groups drew runes and chanted inscriptions and sacrificed animals (and sometimes people), all to little or no effect. They tried to link their own order to ancient conspiracies involving the Knights Templar, the Roswell Incident, the Church of Satan, everything their confused and inaccurate knowledge of history could come up with. They tried to persuade themselves that they were _special._

This group harboured no such illusions.

It wasn't an exclusive gathering of the rich – after all, wasn't Bobby Conway a college dropout from Arizona? Oh sure, there were a few rich men, and a couple of extremely rich women, but it wasn't exclusive at all. No, this group didn't hold prejudices on the basis of wealth. They didn't discriminate based on age either. Father Gumbel was nearing seventy-five, while little Mia Ling just turned fifteen last month. Nor on race. There were people of practically every race in this group.

From the outside, it looked almost endearing. A sampling of humanity, gathered to discuss things in a calm and friendly manner. It would have, if you took care not to listen too closely to what they were actually discussing.

Every group has a leader, and while there might be more than one individual who claims the title, it really only belongs to one person. Again, this group was unique in that the rest of its members never even thought about laying claim to the title of leader. It could only have belonged to one person. It would have been unthinkable to follow someone other than the old man.

The old man was ancient, far older than even Father Gumbel. He wore a white suit and tie, a present from Elizabeth Hart, the movie star. Before that, he was wearing little more than filthy rags. His hair had covered his eyes, his beard extending to his waist. Presently both were short and trimmed neatly. He spoke in whispers, but had no difficulties making himself heard. He rarely ate or drank, and never indulged in the drugs or sex that some of the group got up to, despite being offered countless times. He never wasted time, or gave an order that had not had some benefit to the group and their goal.

He had come to each of them in person, claiming to see something special in each of them. Many of them had been terrified of the man at first. But no matter how many times they called the police, he was nowhere to be found when they arrived. Eventually, they began to listen to what he was telling them.

"I can give you what you want. I can give you what you need. But only if you obey me. Only if you follow my every instruction to the letter. Then everything you can think of, you shall have. Heaven on Earth."

They didn't believe him. They never did, at first. Prove it, they had challenged him.

So he did.

An enemy, dead of a heart attack in his bathtub. A winning lottery ticket. A life-threatening disease, cured overnight. A positive test for a couple declared infertile. Knowledge of secrets. From playing in garages to a world tour. A promotion, an inheritance, a woman, many women, power, wealth, money, sex and fame. The usual.

Some believed then, and willingly followed. Others who weren't as intelligent refused to give him the time of the day after he had given them their heart's desire. They shut their gates and barred their doors and hired security, convinced they could defy him.

So he took it all away from them. Everything he had given them was taken in an instant. And when that was done, he took everything else as well. Until there was little more than a wreck of a shell of a thing that had once been a human he had deemed worthy enough of his association.

This had a wonderful effect on those who had already joined with him. They would never even dream of disloyalty now.

As wonderful as these rewards were, the old man made it abundantly clear that it was only the beginning. Just a small taste of what awaited them. Unimaginable riches lay, as it were, just around the corner. They just had to perform the tasks he set them and obey his instructions. That was all. Nothing could be simpler. A world where each of them could be a king, with the powers of a god, was within their collective grasp. Nothing less.

They knew very little about the old man, who rarely shared information about himself in any case. They did know he had almost succeeded in his grand plans, but he was foiled in the American city of New York years ago. He had little then, just one idiot acolyte and the clothes on his back. He had been stymied, infuriatingly defeated by people of lesser intellect and capabilities. He had retreated to lick his wounds and come up with fresh plans. He would not allow himself to fail again.

The group was not disheartened by his admission of past failures. After all, he had very little then. They were so much better-prepared and more resourceful, and they were all utterly committed to his cause, mind, body and soul. They could not fail.

They were meeting in an elegant board room of a major multinational corporation. The chairman of the board was one of their members, and he was delighted to be of service. It was very comfortable, but the surroundings did not matter. They had met in warehouses, abandoned shacks, even in the middle of fields. Every place served a purpose.

The old man was seated at the head of the table, eyes closed, apparently lost in thought. The group waited patiently, drinking coffee and nibbling on cookies. After about half an hour, the old man opened his eyes and looked around at his assembled followers.

"It has happened. She has allowed herself extensive contact with a mortal."

The group hushed up and listened closely to the old man. One boy raised a hand.

"Teacher, I don't understand. How is it that you are able to ascertain what she is doing?"

"It is difficult to explain, Mr. Sabu. Imagine our universe. Filled with galaxies and planets and life."

They nodded obediently.

"Now, our universe exists on a mortal plane of its own. Below it and above it, in a manner of speaking, lie countless other planes, each with their own universes. And within one such plane lies the realm of our quarry. That is where I have been keeping a very close watch. Through certain procedures, I am able to divine when a being leaves or enters that plane. The sunless lands are devoid of life-forms or beings of any kind whatsoever save our quarry herself…until recently. A mortal has been allowed access."

The group murmured in surprise. Surely she would not have made such a fatal error.

"It is the truth. She has weakened enough. Once there could have been no possibility of such a thing occurring. I wonder what has changed. Nevertheless, this could be the chance I have waited for all of my existence. But we must be patient. Measured. Every action we take from now must be as delicate and deliberate as an arrow fired from a bow. We cannot let this chance pass us by."

"Yes, teacher," the group echoed.

"Where is Miss Sherman?"

"Sydney's overseeing that special project in Chicago, Teacher. It's not yet time for her daily report."

"Oh, yes. Please set up the video conference screen. I wish to speak to her."

"Right away, Teacher." A button was pressed, and a small screen unfolded itself from the table and rose up in front of the teacher. With the touch of another button, the screen flicked to life.

"Miss Sherman, are you there?"

**The Hotel Intercontinental**

**Cape Town, South Africa**

"Uh...uh...take it...take it in…oh God…oh yes..." panted Paul Redeker, feeling the sweat rolling down his face and off his nose. The cool hotel room seemed as hot as a sauna. His arms were wrapped around his partner, his hands buried in her long red hair. Occasionally Paul would lower his mouth to one perfect round breast and roughly tease her nipple with his teeth and tongue. It was more violent than Paul usually liked but the woman had paid his agency three times the usual rate and for that amount of money Paul would do anything that anyone could dream up.

It seemed disingenuous to call her a partner, to him they were customers, nothing more. Getting paid to have sex wasn't everything the internet porn sites made it out to be. After taking up modelling to get him through medical school, and then having to drop out of school and turning to modelling full-time, only to be screwed by his agent and left with no other alternative, this honestly wasn't what Paul wanted after leaving his hometown for the city. His mother still thought he was in school, he couldn't bear to tell her the truth.

It wasn't all bad though. After getting the call from his handler that this latest broad had paid triple Paul had braced himself for an ugly old hag, rich but hideous. Nothing could have been further from the truth. She was unquestionably beautiful, a word that Paul rarely used while describing women. Long red hair that fell in perfect waves down her back, creamy white skin with the merest hint of a freckle, startlingly bright green eyes that had unconcernedly assessed him the moment they first met at the hotel bar, like a tigress sizing up her prey. He'd felt oddly light-headed and out of breath, but she'd apparently found him acceptable. He'd wondered briefly why a breathtaking woman like her would have needed his services, but he wasn't paid to ask questions and she certainly wasn't about to give answers. She spoke in cultured, educated tones but her sentences were short, to the point and revealed nothing. Paul got the message. She wasn't interested in small talk, just sex. And that's what he provided.

She didn't want to whip him or be whipped or anything like that, although Paul was prepared for anything. A couple of hard years had forced him to be prepared for anything. She made love with a furious intensity, matching him stroke for stroke, moving her hips in time with his. Once she had bit him hard enough to draw blood, although he was strictly forbidden to do the same. No kissing, either. She clutched him tight against her breasts and let out a scream that seemed more ferocity than passion. Paul had reached the end of his endurance.

"Oh God," Paul breathed, and came hard in three quick, hard final thrusts. He withdrew slowly and rolled off her to one side. Something told him this woman wouldn't have appreciated him falling asleep on her chest, or wanted a post-coital cuddle.

She didn't look at him as she calmly removed a lighter and a pack of cigarettes from the bedside drawer, and lit one. She didn't offer him a cigarette, seemingly content to say nothing and smoke away. Paul was beginning to be ticked off by the oppressive silence. The woman was acting as though he wasn't even in the room.

Just as he was about to say something, there was a knock at the door. Contrary to her earlier ice-cool demeanor, the woman whipped her head round at the sound, sending her hair flying. Her lips drew back from her teeth in a snarl that made Johnny shrink and edge away from her.

"Who is it?" she called. Her voice, calm and steady, did not betray her obvious temper as Paul could see. She was glaring at the door with such malice he would not have been surprised if twin holes had begun to burn through it.

"I apologise Ms. Sherman, but this is important. The Teacher called. He wants to speak to you immediately."

Paul heard her sharp intake of breath, and for a moment, saw a look of something approaching fear in her eyes. Then it was gone, replaced by the expression he was more familiar with, poised and intent.

A shiver of fear ran down his spine when she finally looked at him with that same cold, clinical assessment she had displayed earlier in the bar.

"You were looking at me."

Paul tried a version of his most winning smile. "It's hard not to, you're so beautiful."

"Shut up you insignificant little worm. Don't patronize me," she snapped, and continued looking at him in that same cold way, as if turning something over in her mind. Then she clicked her tongue in irritation.

"I can't shoot you, that will leave too much of a mess. No fire either. Hmmm..."

Paul gasped, hardly able to get the words out. "But - why?"

The woman sighed.

"You heard my name, and you now know my connection to the Teacher. I can't let you leave now."

"No, please! I don't know anything! I'll leave right now, never say a word to anyone!" Paul sprang out of bed, not even bothering to pick up his pants, he suddenly wanted to put as much distance between himself and the woman as humanly possible. But he was too late. Eyeing him with idle curiosity, she extended one long arm and laid one delicate hand on his arm. Paul suddenly found himself unable to move a single muscle, frozen to the spot. It was as if he had been paralyzed.

"If it's any comfort, you were a good fuck. Good, but not great though. I've had better."

With that pronouncement, the woman inscribed a little circle in the air with her finger and jabbed it forward three times, pointing at Paul's head, heart and groin.

The first thing he felt was his knees beginning to buckle. That was odd, he couldn't move a muscle yet he wasn't able to stand properly. Then his arms flopped uselessly to his sides. He couldn't see the way they suddenly deflated all at once, because it no longer had a bone to hold it up. He could feel it though. He could feel his vertebrae disappear one by one as his spinal column vanished into nothingness and he flopped onto the floor like the world's biggest blow up doll. He felt his skull pop out of existence and his eyes rolling uselessly on his face, barely tethered to his body by their optic nerves. He felt the last of his tibia or fibula or whatever the names were that he had never bothered to pay attention in medical school and was now wishing he had disappear as well. His entire skeleton was gone. He was nothing more than a bag of skin, guts and hair.

He wanted to scream. God, he wanted to scream. But he couldn't.

Unable to hear anything, as ear bones were required to collect the necesary soundwaves, Paul couldn't hear the woman allowing the man outside the door to enter the hotel room. Paul became aware of the light being blotted out, a large man in a suit was looming over him.

"He knows too much. Take him out back to some forest and bury him." Ms. Sherman commanded, lighting another cigarette. Her bodyguard (for that's who he was), hunted for some trash bags and shovelled the still living flesh of Paul Redeker inside without comment. Except one.

"Should I kill him first?"

She shrugged. "If you like. Doesn't matter either way."

She hurriedly pulled on her clothes, and went into the adjacent room to receive the call.

"Ms. Sherman, are you there?"

"Yes Teacher."

"Good. I have important information. The event we discussed has finally happened. I believe it is time to enact our third plan of action."

She almost wanted to blurt out "You've got to be kidding!" But of course that would have been unwise.

"I am...pleased, my Teacher. I will begin the necessary preparations at once."

"Good, good. I trust you remember what is required of you."

"All will be done as quickly and as efficiently as possible. The Association is clueless and it will be a simple matter to replace most of their key security personnel with ours. Then all we have to do is wait for the Final to begin. We are ready to carry out your orders. We have been ready for a long time now."

"Patience, Ms. Sherman. We could lose all by acting in haste at this crucial moment. I trust you will not falter. You are my most trusted operative and you must be the one to set the trap and set events into motion."

"I understand."

"Good. I will see you again."

"And you, Teacher."

The image on the screen fizzled out. Sydney allowed herself a single shriek of mad, insane joyous laughter. To think it was finally happening, within her lifetime, and that she would be the one entrusted to making it all happen. It was almost too much to hope for, yet it was coming true.

She walked quickly out of the room, her mind buzzing, already thinking of her next actions. She would have to call in her team. And see to it that everything went according to plan.


	6. Duplicity

**Chapter Six – Duplicity**

**Death's Realm, the Sunless Lands**

Jamie turned over sleepily. The movement caused the fluffy pink comforter to slide off his bed and onto the floor. He sat up slowly, realization and memory filling his mind and waking him up all the way. There was none of the muzzy-headed confusion that dominated his usual waking moments back on Earth. In Death's realm, it seemed you knew who you were and where you were at all times. Jamie leaned back and enjoyed the feel of the sun (or at least light and warmth) on his face for a moment.

His host kept a really nice guest room. It managed to avoid the assembled-direct-from-Ikea look. The walls were painted a cheery yellow and the curtains billowed slightly from the breeze whistling in through the open window. A blue and white vase of fat yellow daffodils stood on a shelf against the far wall. They were freshly picked, sitting in water and looked identical to some of the flowers that he could see growing on the hills outside his window.

Jamie wandered out of his room and onto the landing, yawning and running his hands through his rumpled hair. All he had on were his striped boxers, the rest of his clothes were lying in a corner of his room. Sometime late last night, after he'd finished mourning for his family, he'd apparently undressed and went to bed. He couldn't exactly remember doing that, but he remembered that the night seemed extremely long, stretching for as long as he needed to give vent to his emotions. When he had finished, he felt cleansed. Hollowed out, but healed.

"Good morning," called Death from the kitchen. She was sitting at the dining table with a steaming mug of coffee. She was wearing tight leather pants, a short black leather jacket with long sleeves and a midriff-cutoff top that revealed her exquisitely toned abs. Jamie took just a little too long before saying good morning in return.

"You slept in longer than I thought," Death remarked, taking in the sight of Jamie's nearly bare body with an inscrutable expression. "The bathroom's straight ahead. You'll find new clothes in the wardrobe in your room."

"You got new clothes for me? Thank you," said Jamie, who was touched. So far, she had already done more for him than anyone outside his immediate family ever had.

Death shrugged her shoulders. "You're welcome. You'd look pretty silly wearing some of my stuff. I hope you like black though."

"I love it," Jamie called from the bathroom. He'd gotten into the shower, which was a single person affair with a sliding glass door. "At least, I used to love it. There was a time when I wore black every single day."

"What happened?"

"I grew up!" he laughed, turning on the water. Death kept a surprisingly ordinary looking bathroom, if a little too fond of scented bath oils and lotions. Jamie soaked himself under the roaring spray for a good long time and shaved with what looked like a newly procured razor before wrapping himself in a towel (black) and returning to his room to check out his wardrobe.

Death had good taste, Jamie had to admit. He could choose from a variety of outfits, none of which were too showy or really unflattering. Jamie settled on a black cotton pullover and jeans combination and went downstairs to join her at the table.

"Are you hungry?" she asked, sipping her coffee.

Jamie thought about it before replying. He suspected a frivolous answer would not impress her, and he wanted badly to do just that.

"Actually, I'm not hungry at all, although I still feel like I should be eating something."

"Force of habit, Jamie. Residual memory. Phantom longings, whatever you choose to call them. You don't need to eat because you're not alive. No matter how much you feel like you are, you're not. You have to remember this, Jamie. It's important."

"Yeah. Okay," he said, not entirely enthusiastic with what she seemed to be telling him. "What about you? You're not alive either, and you're drinking coffee."

"I'm not a mortal. I happen to be the anthropomorphic personification of a fundamental force of the universe, and I can do pretty much whatever I want. And right now, I want a nice cuppa."

Jamie had nothing to say to that.

"All right Jamie, if you're going to work with me, there are certain rules you have to follow. You must obey my instructions to the letter, or I haul you off to your official afterlife without another word. Do you agree?" said Death, suddenly becoming all business-like.

"Yes. I do."

"Good. I'll teach you to how to do my job, bit by bit. Maybe one day you can take over for me for a while, but let's not get ahead of ourselves. The important thing to remember is that it's an important job. I don't need to impress upon you how crucial my responsibilities are. In this line of work, the number one rule is the same as it is on Earth. Have respect for who you are dealing with. Remember, it's not any harder to be nice than it is to be nasty."

"Really?"

"Trust me. It's not. A lot of the people we're going to see are not going to be pleased to meet us at all. In fact every day we meet people on the worst day of their lives. We're going to help them to cross over, but there's no reason not to make the transition as smooth and as painless as possible. Do you understand me?"

"You watch CSI?"

"Jamie!"

"Okay, okay. Yeah, I get you. In fact I wish more people back on Earth have heard of your rule one. It might have made things a little easier."

"Well maybe. There are other things we need to discuss but this is the most important one. I'll address the others as and when they come up."

"You got it, boss."

"Boss? Nevermind...we've got a lot of work to do today, Jamie. You're going to accompany me on one of my rounds. We'd better keep just to Earth for the time being. It's going to be hectic, but you'll be with me all the time."

"I'm used to hard work," Jamie said, remembering his long shifts at the boxing ring and the comic book store. They had left the house and were walking outside in the grass. It was another beautiful day. Jamie wondered vaguely if it ever rained in Death's realm, and decided that it didn't matter."

"This isn't your usual nine-to-five. Or even your six-to-eight. In a certain kind of way, one which you'll learn later, I'm always on the job. I always have something to do. That's my responsibility, something which you'll also need to keep in mind."

She came to a stop at the same hillock where she and Jamie had landed yesterday and prepared to open the door between the worlds.

"All right. Let's go to work."

"Right behind you."

He held her hand, which felt as smooth as he remembered. Jamie recalled the freezing cold, and tried to brace himself for the shock of moving between the worlds. Without a word Death flicked her other hand and Jamie was once again clothed in the same velvety darkness that had shrouded him the last time.

"Can I learn how to do that?"

"I'll teach it to you, I promise."

With absolutely no sound or ceremony, the pair disappeared.

**Canada**

**Earth**

Jamie emerged a moment later in a dark bedroom. Soft toys were scattered about everywhere, a mess of papers and pencils covered a little writing desk. A nightlight stood on a low cabinet, illuminating a small girl tucked under her blankets with a soft orange glow. She was cuddling a large stuffed crocodile and couldn't have been more than seven years old. Death was leaning against a wardrobe, looking at the little girl.

"Who is she?"

"Jenny McKenzie," Death said quickly. "Daughter of Art McKenzie and Maya Malik. She has leukemia, poor girl. Her parents are trying everything they can to give her a fighting chance, but it still doesn't look good."

Jamie was speechless for a while. Jenny shifted, turning her head a little. The nightlight revealed a pretty little face framed by soft black hair, but one that had been aged years by her battle with the disease.

"And we're here to…you mean I have to…"

Death looked puzzled, and then brightened as realization hit her.

"Oh no! No, it's not her time yet."

"But the leukemia…if it's not her time, why are we even here?"

Death pointed to a corner of the room. A colourful plastic cage occupied the space, with tunnels entwined here and there like burrowing worms. It was lined with a mix of wood shavings and shredded tissue paper and kept remarkably neat. A small dark ball of fur was lying curled up beneath the spout of the cage's water bottle. It wasn't moving.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me…" muttered Jamie. Death ignored him and knelt down beside the cage. She seemed to be waiting for something. Jamie squatted down next to her and looked around. The little bedroom was still and completely silent, save for the sound of Jenny's breathing.

He was just about to say something when Death laid a hand on his arm and pointed. A small grey hamster was sniffling around at the foot of Jenny's bed. Its fur was the exact shade of grey as the motionless ball in the cage itself. As Jamie watched, the hamster made its way to where Death was kneeling. It sat up on its haunches and cleaned itself thoroughly, washing its face, nose and ears twice. Jeff had a hamster once, Jamie recalled. Jeff loved the cute little rodent, played with it all the time until it managed to escape and was eaten by Joey's cat. Jamie had watched with interest as his little brother tried to kill his 240 pound older brother.

Death reached out and stroked the hamster gently. "Hi there little guy," she said softly.

The hamster looked up at her. "Good evening, madam. I've been expecting you for quite some time," it said in a curiously deep voice.

"The hamster is talking, Didi," Jamie whispered out of a corner of his mouth.

"Shush, Jamie."

"But it's talking."

"And I want you to stop talking. How do you feel, Mr. Furry?"

The hamster gave Death a reproachful look, insofar as a hamster could look reproachful.

"Now ma'am, you know that's not my real name. It's just something that Miss Jenny calls me."

"You're right, of course. I do apologise, names are important things. How do you feel, _Cheek_?"

"Much better now ma'am, thank you for asking. I was hoping to see my third year, as humans reckon these things, but as soon as I felt the pain in my side I realized it was not to be. Still, I've had a good life. Can't complain, really. I just wish I didn't have to leave young Miss Jenny behind." The hamster turned its head to look at its owner, nose twitching. "Is she…is she going to be all right?"

"Now, _Cheek. _You know I can't tell you. Everybody has one story. Jenny's goes on for a good long time, but you, my brave little friend, your time has come."

"Yes, of course," said the hamster. "Do I touch your nose now?"

"Well you see _Cheek_, today's a bit special. I won't be helping you to cross over. My friend's going to do it for me instead."

The hamster glanced at Jamie, appearing to notice him for the first time. "Him? Who is he? He's a human!"

Jamie looked at Death. "A human? Aren't you…I mean, don't you look-?"

"She is Madame Death, sir," said the hamster, addressing Jamie. "All rodents know of the Dark Mistress, the one who will help us to cross over when their lives are ended by cat or trap or disease or old age."

"Yes, but what does she look like to you?"

"A great lady rodent, of course. Dark of fur, with eyes like two deep pools, eyes that see truth. What do you think she looks like?"

"I'll explain later, Jamie," Death said, before he could reply. "You have to help _Cheek _here to cross over."

"Ok, but I don't know how."

"Hold out your hand."

Jamie extended his palm towards the small grey hamster. It remained where it was, nose still twitching.

"Now, _Cheek_, you touch his hand."

The hamster rubbed its ear again. "Do I have to, Madam?"

"Yes, little one."

"By your will." The hamster crept forward, and nudged the tip of Jamie's finger with its tiny nose.

The instant it touched him, a host of thoughts, memories and feelings flooded Jamie's mind. In a moment, he saw everything that the hamster saw throughout its brief life, from the minute it was born in a dark warm struggling mass with eight other brothers and sisters, to the time Jenny first laid eyes on it and fell instantly in love. He saw the times when they played, the lonelier times when Jenny's illness kept her from it, the joy it felt each time Jenny felt well enough to stroke its fur and talk softly about all kinds of things.

"Now, Jamie," whispered Death behind him. "Open it up. Think of my realm, the sunless lands. Think of how it felt to cross between the worlds, to move through the planes of existence. Think of the sense of freedom, of weightlessness, the sensation of leaving the anchor of this world far behind you forever. Imagine a door opening, and step through that door."

Jamie felt a sense of space all around him, a vast void stretching away to infinity, as if the universe itself was opening up. The hamster faded, and then vanished. There was nothing left of where it had sat except for empty space.

"That was interesting," said Jamie. "Is it over?"

"Yes, it is. He's crossed over. You did a good job."

Jamie leaned against the wall and tried to steady himself. He could still see a few images of the hamster's life, fleeting past him.

"It's beautiful, isn't it? In a way?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it actually is. I never thought a little hamster could have such an interesting life."

"All life is interesting, especially in this job. Shall we move on?"

"All right."

Jamie took a last look at the bedroom, and then followed Death into nothingness.

She took him on more journeys to assist the recently dead, staying small. Jamie crossed over a few more pet hamsters, guinea pigs and the like. He crossed a group of city rats who had been poisoned, and a little songbird that had froze to death. Death didn't limit him to just mammals, though. Jamie was guided through the crossing of a flea, a pond-skater, a trout, and finally a small flower that had the misfortune to bloom in a crack of a sidewalk and was trampled over by foot-traffic. Not all of them had voices, but they understood what had happened to them all the same. One journey ended. The next one begins.

Jamie rubbed his eyes. The flower, although it had no memories, was as vibrant as any other living thing he had taken so far. Jamie had felt something akin to contentment from the flower when the sun shone, a feeling similar to sleep when the sun went down, and a hundred other sensations that was completely alien to him. How long had he spent on Earth without truly considering the miracle of photosynthesis? Flowers were just there, things you stepped over or only noticed when they cost ten dollars a stalk in a store, but his brief tenure as the reaper of lives was opening up horizons for him that he never could have dreamed of existing.

"I think we should head back," said Death finally, watching the sky. The sun was going down and the stars were beginning to show again.

"How long have we been out here?" asked Jamie, head still spinning from his last reap. He leaned against a lamp post to steady himself.

"It's kinda hard to explain properly," said Death. "It's got a lot to do with n-dimensional chronology and quantum."

"Try me," Jamie challenged. "I was pretty good at physics in school."

"All right," said Death. "You know the theory that there are multiple universes, each almost similar to its neighbour, but not quite?"

"Sure, everyone knows that. A universe where a single atom spun in a different direction or something, and that causes Hitler to win. It's always Hitler, for some reason."

"Well, it's total rubbish," she said, and had to chuckle at Jamie's confused look.

"Maybe one day I'll get it," he muttered, and followed her as she opened up another gateway between the planes and prepared to head on to the next being.

The next few weeks were more of the same. Death carefully guided Jamie through the delicate process of taking lives. She acted as though every life was equal, whether it was a tapeworm or a human, and it was this philosophy that Jamie found himself agreeing with. After all, Darwin's Theory stated that every single organism alive today was equal on an evolutionary level, no matter how simple or complex they were. Jamie was also traveling to places he never knew existed. From the highest mountain peaks to the deepest, darkest crushing depths of the abyssal oceans, Death walked and Jamie followed. For the kid who had only been out of New York a couple of times on family vacations, it was nothing short of incredible.

**The Pacific Ocean**

"Would you look at that?" sighed Death. They were in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, watching a whaling ship hunt down a humpback whale. Jamie's feet were hovering just inches above the rolling waves, although the foam and the spray were soaking his jeans. Wherever he looked, the sea stretched out in front of him, all the way to the horizon. There was nothing else in sight but the little ship, riding the waves from one crest to the next, following closely as the whale arrowed through the water like a torpedo. Jamie could see streaks of blood flowing from where the ship's harpoons had struck the whale and stuck into its hide.

"This is so 19th century Melville," she continued, taking a few steps forward over what looked like thin air. Although she only appeared to move a short distance, they were suddenly close to the ship once again, which had gotten quite a long way away from them. "Don't you guys know that whales are sentient?"

"They are?"

"Sure they are. Language, music, family groups and a semblance of society, traditions involving huge journeys all around the Earth, mating rituals…they're definitely self-aware."

"You know, I once dated a girl who said the same thing."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Weird girl. Really into the whole hippie thing."

"Dude, that's not very nice."

"She tried to stop me from eating meat and refused to shave her legs…" Jamie went on, and ducked as Death bent down, scooped up some water and splashed it at him.

"It's almost over," she said, watching the hunt go on. The whale was slowing down. Its blood was staining the water red and it didn't look as though it could go on much further.

"Can't we do anything?" asked Jamie, wincing as yet another harpoon struck the whale, just below its left eye.

"I'm afraid not. It's not our place to judge or to decide who gets to live and who dies. We just help them along the way. It's important you remember this, Jamie."

"Is there a judge, though? Someone who decides who lives and dies and where everybody ends up?"

"Is the answer really important?"

"I'd like to know, yes."

"So why didn't you cross over and find out?"

Jamie looked away and did not answer.

Death laughed merrily. "Forget it Jamie, I was only teasing. We have a job to finish. Do you remember everything that you need to do?"

"Yes. Make contact, make an opening, counsel the being if it needs counseling."

"Very nice. Look, the poor thing's almost done for. It's time."

"All right."

Jamie mimicked her steps and wasn't surprised to find himself moving smoothly towards the huge creature as it broke the surface of the water for a final time. It leapt into the air, and Jamie's heart went out to it. It didn't seem right that it should have to die this way.

The whale flopped back into the water and laid still, its great heart silenced at last. The whaling boat edged closer and Jamie could see the sailors celebrating at their success. He turned away from them and watched the horizon.

The shade of the whale was swimming serenely towards him. It circled its own body one final time, as if to say goodbye. Jamie stepped up next to it.

_Great one, _he began. The whale rolled over to look at him with one massive eye.

_What are you, little one? You look like one of the creatures who sail the sea in their floating things, hunting down me and my kin. What do you want?_

_I was one of those kind once, but no longer. I am here to help you to cross over._

_You?_

The whale moved closer, looming in front of him and Jamie couldn't help but feel nervous. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Death off to one side. She gave him an encouraging nod.

_Yes, great one. It is your time to leave this world and go on to whatever awaits you._

The whale didn't answer immediately. Eventually, it "spoke" again, in its own strange language that Jamie could somehow understand perfectly.

_I've led a long, long life. I've swum from one land mass to the next, exploring all that the ocean has to offer. I've seen amazing things. I've had dozens of wives and many, many children. I've seen my children grow up and explore the same seas with me. I've seen the world, little one. It was good._

Jamie waited. Death had went over next to him and stood by his side. Without looking, he reached for her hand and held it. There was a tiny pause, before she grasped his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

_I am ready to leave, little one. Who is your companion, by the way? She appears to be one of my people._

_She is my guide, and my friend._

_That is good. Friends are good. Hold on to them._

Jamie nodded. He reached out with his other hand and touched the whale's side, feeling the texture of its wet, rubbery skin. The shade of the whale, faded, and then disappeared completely. As usual, every single memory and thought that the whale ever had spilled into Jamie's mind, along with something that felt wonderfully familiar. Emotions, genuine sensations of happiness and sadness that he had not experienced from his other reapings. The whale had indeed been a thinking, feeling being.

Throughout it all, Jamie held on to Death's hand. It felt strangely comforting, her slim white hand in his, the two of them alone together the middle of the sea.

"I think it's over," he said finally. The whale's shade had moved on to wherever it was going next.

"Yes. You did a wonderful job."

"Thank you. Shall we go home now?"

"Sure."

Still holding his hand, Death opened up the portal between the worlds, and Jamie followed her home.

**Death's Realm**

_Home, _thought Jamie later, as he sat down on Death's couch with a cup of tea and watched her feed the fish. _This place is really starting to feel familiar._

Jamie had changed out of his wet jeans into a pair of comfortable shorts that he had found in his room. He leaned back on the couch contentedly, sipping his tea. It was blackcurrant, and was only one of the many varieties he saw stocked in Death's kitchen. Jamie hadn't known there were so many kinds available. The window was open and the bright yellow curtains were drawn back, letting the pleasant night breeze into the house. At least, it seemed like night. It was dark outside at any rate.

"What are their names?"

"The big orange one's Slim and the little yellow one's called Wandsworth."

"Cute."

Slim and Wandsworth gobbled up their fishy flakes and swam around their bowl. Jamie watched them thoughtfully, reminded of the great humpback whale he had helped to cross over. Death was lying down on her side on the couch opposite, propping her head up with one hand. She too was staring dreamily at the goldfish bowl, a faraway look in her large dark eyes. She had changed out of her stylish clothes and was wearing a simple black t-shirt and shorts.

"Didi?"

"Hmm?" she said sleepily.

"Could you tell me why that hamster and the whale didn't see you the same way I see you now?"

Death sat up and drew her knees to her chest, hugging her shins. She didn't answer for a while. Jamie waited patiently, seeing things from her perspective. She was an immortal being of unfathomable power and immense responsibilities, while he was just a dead human from Earth. He was asking questions that had not needed answers in countless centuries. Still, he had sworn himself to her service and he was determined to show that her trust would be repaid. A little information was the least that she could give him, if he was going to do the job right.

"As you know," she began eventually, "My job doesn't limit me to just your planet. Or even your galaxy or universe. There are loads of inhabited planets with life out there, you wouldn't believe how many. Not only that, but yours is just one plane of existence. There are thousands, each more fantastic and weird and wonderful than the last. Each with their own universes and galaxies and planets."

Death watched Slim swim around a plant, twirling a lock of her hair around one finger. Jamie didn't hear an answer to his question, but he sensed that he was hearing something more important instead.

"I love my job. There's not a lot of people who can say that honestly, but I can. I was made for this job. I like meeting all the people who lived, every form of life the universe has to offer. I like talking to them, and hearing their stories. Everyone's got a story to tell. No one is insignificant."

"I don't want to come across as being whiny, but all the endless years…sometimes I get tired. Really tired. I am on the job, all the time. Even now. I'm sitting here talking to you, but some part of me is still out there, reaping lives and helping people to cross over. I never truly catch a break. I have to be the responsible one, the one who does her duty. If not me, then who? At least, until you came along. I don't know. Before I answer your question, I'd like you to answer one of mine first. Why did you really want to take this job?"

Jamie had gotten up from his side of the couch and sat down beside her.

_So many reasons, Didi. Because I hope to see my mother and brother again. Because I'm afraid I won't find my father and brother if I do cross over. Because a few weeks ago I was just a kid living in New York, wondering what to do with his life before it was snatched away from me. Because I refuse to believe that the little that I've managed to accomplish in my life will be the last mark that I make in this world, or the next._

_But most of all, Didi, I didn't get to say goodbye to the girl I loved. Morgan. I need to be with her. Even if it means taking advantage of the kindness you've shown me so far. I need to find a way back to Earth._

"Jamie?" her voice broke in on his thoughts. She was looking up at him through her curtain of hair. She looked as though she knew what he was really thinking. He needed to come up with an answer.

"I want to help you. Any way that I can. That's all I want to do."

He stopped, dreading the simple question that would come next. She would ask why, and he'd either be forced to tell the truth and pour his heart out, or come up with some pathetic excuse and lie to her. He couldn't do either one, not at the moment.

But she didn't. Perhaps on some level, she knew he would need time to come to terms with his own feelings. She kissed him chastely on the cheek, and Jamie felt the blood rush to his face.

"Thank you."

"Um, I've been thinking, said Jamie hastily, to cover up his embarrassment. Do you want to hang out tomorrow?"

"But we are hanging out."

"Oh, I don't mean here. It'd be good to get out, see some sights."

"What do you have in mind?"

"Okay, one of the things that I was really looking forward while I was alive was the World Cup in South Africa."

"You follow soccer? But you're from New York."

Jamie shook his head in mock disappointment. "Stereotypes. The curse of human relations. I'd thought you'd be wiser, being the all-powerful personification of Death and all-"

Death threw a cushion at his head. "Idiot! I've not seen a game before, but it sounds interesting."

"Excellent. My timing's messed up, but I'm pretty sure the quarter finals are about to take place."

"Sure, we'll watch it after work. It's a date."

"It is?"

"It's not?"

"Um, no. I mean, yeah. It's a date. Wonderful."

"Sweet! It'll be fun."

"Yeah, I can't wait."

They finished their tea in a comfortable silence, side-by-side on the couch. When they were done, Death began to tell Jamie everything that he needed to know about doing her job.


	7. A Nice Day Out

**Chapter Seven – A Nice Day Out**

**Yellowstone National Park**

**North America, Earth**

"You really think I can do this?"

"Of course. I have complete faith in you."

"Okay, here goes nothing."

Jamie approached the body. A camper had gotten lost and was mauled to death by a grizzly bear. As Jamie watched, the bear began ripping at the body, thankfully oblivious to Jamie's presence.

"I think I'm gonna throw up..."

"Be cool Jamie. I think that's him now."

The shade appeared. The camper was a balding, middle-aged guy with glasses and a slight paunch. He screamed in horror at the sight of the bear.

"Help me! Somebody, please help! It's going to kill me! It's going to kill...waitaminute..."

The man began patting himself down, rubbing his cheeks in a way Jamie found familiar. Eventually he stopped.

"Oh," was all he could say. Jamie chose this time to show himself.

"Hello sir," he said, as non-offensively as possible. The man looked wildly at him.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Jamie. I've come to take you away."

"You? You're the Grim Reaper! Don't make me laugh, you're half my age! You look like my son!"

"I am as I appear, Mr. Muldoon."

"Wait, how did you know my name?"

"You guessed it sir. For all intents and purposes, I am your Grim Reaper."

"This is disgusting. First I get attacked without warning, then someone like you shows up."

"To be honest sir, you should have listened to that Park Ranger when he told you there were bears were in the area."

"That's what they all say, but I've never seen one. Well, not until recently."

"And you really should have listened when he said not to leave your food unattended and dispose of your rubbish properly."

"What are you, a public service announcement? I demand to speak to your manager!"

"What?"

"You heard me. I know fellas like you, you never have initiative. You can't be running the show by yourself. I want to speak to your superior."

"But..." exasperated, Jamie shot a look at Death, who was staying out of sight behind a nearby tree. She shook her head, and silently mouthed no to him.

"I'm sorry Mr. Muldoon, there is no one else. There's just me. Now take my hand, and I'll get you going to wherever it is you're supposed to go."

"Take your hand? What will happen if I do?"

"I don't know, sir. That's for you to find out."

Mr. Muldoon slumped a little, and in an instant Jamie felt sorry for the guy. Beneath his blustering demeanor, he was as scared and confused as Jamie himself was once.

"It's not all bad sir. It's easier than you think."

"But what about my son?"

"He'll lead his life. He'll grieve, but he has to move on. And so do you. You might see him again someday."

"I never truly believed in anything, really. I don't know what's going to happen next."

"To be honest sir, I don't think it really matters. But what I do know is that it doesn't stop here. It's not the end, not really."

"Okay. Uh, thank you young man."

"You're welcome."

Jamie took his hand and felt the familiar rush of thoughts and emotions, although as his first human job it felt different from the animals and plants he had taken. While the whale, for example had discernable feelings and memories, the capacity and range of Mr. Muldoon's experiences deluged Jamie, threatening to overwhelm him.

Humans had so many more thoughts it was next to impossible to pick out a specific one or to watch a specific memory. He could get a general feeling though, a sense of Mr. Muldoon's life. It hadn't been a particularly memorable one, but it had its ups and downs. And suddenly it was over. The shade had disappeared completely.

"Very nicely done indeed. I thought for a moment you'd need my help," Death said, stepping up to join him.

"I thought so too. They're different, huh?"

"Oh yes. Sentient creatures with complex minds will naturally have more thoughts and observations than mere instinct."

"Still I find it easier to help humans to cross over. Appearing in the form that the dead individual expects to see can't have been easy."

"It just takes practise. And frankly most beings aren't quite sure what to expect anyway, so it doesn't really matter most of the time. And unless I am mistaken - which happens very rarely - that's our last one for the day. So where are we going next for our date, Mr. Keane?" said Death, smiling flirtatiously.

"Follow me, Miss Didi," Jamie said, taking her hand and leading her to the void. "Next stop, South Africa!"

**Shift**

They emerged into a sea of light. The spotlights of the Cape Town stadium lit up the pitch as if it was the middle of the day. Flashes from cameras weren't going off here and there, they were everywhere. Everyone in the stadium wanted a memento of the night. If some ancient cultures were right, and cameras really stole a bit of a person's soul away each time they were used Jamie mused, the players would be hollowed out husks before they'd even kicked a ball.

They were seated right at pitchside, just a few short meters away from the grass. Fans were yelling and screaming excitedly all around them. Many were clutching vuvuzela horns, to Jamie's utter dismay. He hated the continuous drone they made throughout the entirety of any African match.

Death was looking delightedly all around her, caught up in the rush of life. "I love crowds! Everyone here's having the time of their lives!" she called excitedly to Jamie. "I don't think this is the right look though. Let's see...ah, there we go."

In the blink of an eye, Death's black jacket and shirt transformed into a black bikini top, with a large black bandana binding up her hair. Jamie couldn't help but admire it.

"See something you like, Keane?" she asked wickedly.

"Uh, no?" said Jamie without thinking. Death raised an eyebrow.

"Uh, yes?"

She smiled. "Better. Let's get this show started!"

Jamie sat back in his seat and soaked in the pre-match atmosphere, waiting for the teams to walk out onto the pitch. To his utter delight, they appeared to be at a quarter-final, where Argentina and Germany would clash.

"Aw, that's fantastic! Argentina and Germany!"

"Germany to win," said Death immediately. "Their players are better looking."

"You've got to be joking, none of them are a patch on me."

"Now who's the one making the jokes?"

The two teams had taken up their positions, and the roar that greeted the first kick of the game was unlike anything Jamie had ever heard in his life. It was more than mere sound, more than thousands of excited people making as much noise as they possibly could. It was a small sample of the best that life had to offer.

All that life had to offer…he couldn't share in it, could he? Not really. Well sure, he was at the game, and even if he was alive he probably couldn't have afforded the trip anyway, but Jamie still couldn't help feeling an uncharacteristic pang of melancholy. He was neither dead nor alive, stuck between worlds, able to watch one of the world's best sporting events live and in person but as absolutely no one could see or hear him, it was just as bad as watching it on a screen alone at home.

Jamie stole a look to his left. Death was standing in her seat, and was gently swaying with the rest of the crowd as "Ole Argentina!" rolled around the stadium. She was singing as loudly as any other slightly drunk fan and didn't look like she was feeling sorry for herself at all.

Jamie stood up and curled an arm around Death's slim waist. She did the same and they finished the song together.

Half an hour in and Germany was leading by a single goal, courtesy of a bullet header by Thomas Mueller. Jamie groaned loudly as Argentina's Gabriel Heinze misplaced a simple pass, once again conceding possession. Frustrated with the on-pitch action, he looked at the people around him.

There were the Argentina fans, who were staring at the pitch with looks of horror on their faces, jester hats and curly wigs drooping on their heads, their blue and white facepaint melting in the heat. There were the German fans clad in black and white, jumping up and down excitedly and screaming with delight any time one of their fantastically talented players touched the ball. There were the locals, suited executives and other assorted neutrals, who ran the gamut from riveted to snoring away in their air-conditioned luxury lounges.

One individual in particular caught Jamie's eye. She was a skinny young girl who couldn't have been more than seventeen years old. She was seated a little way from him, wearing an oversized denim jacket and not much else. To Jamie's surprise, she didn't even seem to be wearing shoes.

Her hair was dyed in many bright colours, green and gold and pink and orange all swirled together. Maybe it was the distance, but Jamie could have sworn the colours seemed to move and change even as he looked at them. But what really got his attention was the colour of her skin, a pure white that he'd only ever seen on one other person before.

He noticed the way she was sitting, arms wrapped around herself tightly, head hunkered down as if trying to avoid attention. An underfed young girl with an affinity for punk fashion wouldn't have looked out of place in the streets of Amsterdam or something, but she seemed a bit incongruous in the middle of a horde of shirtless Argentinians.

Jamie nudged Death, pointing to his right. "Hey, check her out."

Death looked at where Jamie was pointing, and her hand flew up to her mouth. "Oh my word, why is she here of all places?" She stood up and began to move over to where the girl was sitting. People politely made room for her to pass without saying a word. Jamie got up hurriedly.

"Huh? Do you know this girl?"

"Of course I do Jamie. She's my sister."

Jamie actually stopped moving out of shock, but seeing as how Death didn't notice he scrambled to keep up with her.

"Delirium? What are you doing here? Are you okay?" asked Death, sitting down beside her little sister. The big man whose seat it originally was decided to choose that moment to make a run for the toilets. Jamie tried to do the same, but his neighbour was apparently engrossed in the match and didn't even look up as Jamie swatted the back of his head. He had to remain standing.

"Big sis? Is that really you? I thought I saw you once but then it wasn't really you so I thought I'd ask properly this time and maybe it'll really be you," said the strange girl, looking sideways at Death. She spoke in a disjointed, random fashion, speaking fast then slowing down, saying something softly then louder in the next breath.

Death gave her a hug. Jamie noticed the girl's body stiffening at the initial touch, then gradually relaxing after a moment. She hugged back, and Death pulled away to look at her straight in the eye, with her hands on Delirium's shoulders.

"It's really me, Del. Are you all right?" she asked again.

"I'm…fine. Really. Just like you're really you and not someone else. I know you guys said I had to stay close to Destruction but I've gotten better all by myself and he wanted to move on again. He never said a word but I still could tell so I told him he didn't need to stay with me all the time any more. Barnabas could do that."

"Where is he, by the way?"

"I think he left to get food. He doesn't like stadiums. Too many people, he said."

"Speaking of which, what made you want to watch the World Cup?"

Delirium stood up in her seat and stood on one leg, executing a little pirouette in her bare feet.

"Can't you tell, big sis? It's the crowd. They always go slightly mad at big sporting events, and all over the world as people watch it on their television screens and computer screens and big film screens and tiny little mobile phone screens. It has power. I thought coming here would make me feel better. It helped. A little. Nearly everyone in the stadium is a little bit mad right about now. Except those guys. They don't care at all," Delirium said derisively, pointing with both arms towards the luxury executive box. Jamie hid a grin.

Delirium got down and lay down on the floor, stretching her legs into the air above her. She was constantly moving, never content to remain in the same position for long. "Now that I've answered you you should answer me now, big sis. Why are you here? Did you come looking for me? Or is someone about to die?"

Death bent over her sister, stroking her hair tenderly. "No Del, I didn't know you were going to be here. And I'm actually taking a break from work."

Delirium eyes widened even more than usual. "You're taking a break? But you never take breaks! You're always working, every time I want to find you're always busy. I'd never ever ever thought you'd come to watch the World Cup. Maybe you aren't really my big sis after all." Jamie noticed a faint look of guilt on Death's face.

"Stop that Del, I wouldn't lie to you. I'm here with my friend Jamie. It was actually his idea. Delirium, this is Jamie Keane, a recently deceased young man from right here on Earth. Jamie, this is my sister the Lady Delirium, anthropomorphic personification of insanity and reality."

Jamie stuck out a hand. "Pleased to meet you, Delirium."

Delirium stared at his hand, then at him, then at Death, then back at the hand again, and finally looked down at her fingers, twisting them around each other. Death gently pushed his hand away.

"She doesn't really shake hands."

"Oh…okay then. Um, do you like football, Delirium?"

Delirium was staring up at him with an intensely scrutinising expression, as if he was the most fascinating thing in the world. She turned herself around and sat with her back to the edge of the seat.

"Now I know it's not really you, big sis. You've never gone out with a friend before, at least not while you're being the great big scary personification of life and what comes after it."

"Del, you're not being polite. Jamie's a friend of mine. He's actually helping me with my work."

Delirium put her fingers in her mouth, her multicoloured fringed falling over her eyes. Even so, it couldn't fully conceal the look of utter shock on her face.

"A friend? An assistant? A help-meet, a confidante, an intern apprentice servant sidekick dogsbody batman? Destiny won't like that. He won't like that at all. Oh no."

Death made a noise of consternation. "I'll talk to him Del, but that's not really important right now. We're just here to have a good time. We'll watch the match with you, if you like."

Delirium stretched her arms and arched her back, yawning hugely. "I was getting bored actually. But…I'd like to do something else with you big sis. Remember when you took me to watch 101 Dalmatians?"

"Oh yes. You were really noisy."

"I'm better now. I'll be good, I promise. Really. Cross my heart and hope to pluck it out and carve it up in a million pieces before being burnt and the ashes scattered to the four winds if I'm telling a falsehood."

"I don't think that'll be necessary. I'd love to take you to the movies, Del, but I'm here with Jamie and he really wants to watch the final."

Jamie was watching the on-pitch action again. Germany's Ozil and Podolski were running rings around the Argentinian defence, resulting in a shot that nearly went in. The entire stadium groaned as one.

"Jamie?"

"Sorry. What is it?"

"Would you mind if I took Delirium to the movies?"

Jamie glanced at the scoreboard, where it said ARG 0 GER 1 in huge shining letters.

"Tell you what, I think I'll come with you. This looks like a lost cause anyway." The big man had returned, and swore loudly as he looked at the Germans carving through the Argentinian team like a hot knife through butter. Taking this as their cue, Death, Delirium and Jamie got up and quietly left the stadium.

**Shift**

"It's dark."

"It's supposed to be dark, Del."

"It's crowded. My seat's too small."

"You're supposed to sit down on it, Del. Not lie sprawled all over with your head in my lap and your feet in Jamie's face."

"It's okay, really," said Jamie politely, craning his neck to the left as far as it would go.

"Where's Barnabas? I thought he was bringing us popcorn. Popped corn. Kernels of corn exploded and then covered in salt and butter. But they had to be exploded first. We had to blow them up before eating them. Don't you find it weird?"

"Hush, Del. You're bothering the rest of the theatre."

And so she was. People behind and around them were muttering in annoyance. Delirium didn't seem to care.

"Why's that robot all alone?"

"He's the last one, all the rest have broken down."

"Why's he collecting trash?"

"That's his job."

"Ohhhh. I have a job too. I make people see what's really there, not what they only think is there but is actually not. Like justice and stuff."

"Excuse me miss, but do you mind keeping quiet? My kids want to watch the movie," a woman behind them whispered furiously. Delirium turned around in her seat to look at her.

"You can see me? Hear me? Perceive my existence in this specific location?" she asked quizzically.

"Are you crazy? The whole theatre can! You're annoying everybody."

"Uh, Didi? Why is it people can hear us?" asked Jamie. But Death wasn't paying attention to him. She was gazing off into space, as if concentrating on reading something that only she could see. Then she clicked her tongue in annoyance.

"I don't believe this, I really don't. I thought that was it for the rest of the day."

Death leaned over to her left. "Jamie, I really need to go. Some god died on another plane, and I need to be there in person. It's the rules. Could you keep an eye on Delirium for me until I come back? I promise I'll be back as quick as I can."

"Sure...I'll do my best."

Death gave him a megawatt smile. Then she vanished in a blink of an eye.

Jamie slumped back into his seat, exhaling deeply. Beside him, Delirium was engaged in an animated, if one-sided conversation with the woman over whether a robot could love.

"Del? Can I call you Del?"

"That's what my family calls me. Are you family?"

"Well no."

"Do you want to be?"

Jamie choked. "What does that mean?"

"Oh, nothing,"Delirium said airily, swinging her legs around to rest in Death's recently vacated seat. "I'm not stupid, you know. Even though lots of people think I am. I'm not blind either. Miss Justice is blind, but you'd never know it the way she gives such dirty looks. Even though she wears a blindfold."

"I don't understand what you're talking about."

"You don't have to. Do you know you're a very special person?"

"I am?"

"You're the first mortal in, well, EVER that I've seen my big sis let do her job. Are you staying at her place?"

"Yes, but, separate rooms, obviously-"

"Don't you know how WEIRD that is? Do you have the slightest idea how many trillions and bazillions of people she's met? And she only let you help her? Why is that?"

"I don't know, okay! I asked her, she agreed. That's all there is to it."

Jamie glowered at the screen, trying to ignore Death's little sister. He hadn't really sat down and thought about it, because doing so would just give rise to massive doubts that he wasn't sure he could deal with just yet. Delirium was once again paying attention to the movie.

"Why did that white robot shut down? Are plants really that interesting?"

A teenage boy behind them had enough. "Keep it down, you retard! You're ruining it for the rest of us!"

Delirium narrowed her eyes at him. "You're not being polite. I don't think I like you."

"I don't give a rat's ass if you like me or not, just shut up!" yelled the boy, making much more noise than Delirium had. Jamie noticed his girlfriend sitting next to him, clinging on to his arm with a simpering look on her face.

"I think I'll make you think you're being attacked by bugs forev-"

Jamie placed a hand on her shoulder. "Del, please don't do that. He's not worth your time."

Delrium stared at him with an indecipherable blank expression. Then she beamed at him.

"You know, I think I can see why big sis likes you. I won't make him think he's being covered in bugs forever and ever after all."

The teenager was looking confused at the turn of events. "What do you mean I'm not worth it, you loser?"

"Look buddy," yelled a man who was accompanied by his kids. "You're the one pissing everybody off now. Just shut up and let us watch the movie in peace!"

Delirium stuck her tongue out at the rowdy teen, then quickly dropped back into her seat. She gave Jamie a sly sideways look, who couldn't help but chuckle.

The film went on ("_Hey Dolly_? I LOVED that musical!") and when it wrapped things up at the end Delirium stood up in her seat and clapped enthusiastically. After a moment of hesitation Jamie decided the hell with it and gave it a standing ovation as well. The parents with their kids looked at them like they were a couple of maniacs and hightailed it out of the theatre.

"Your sister's not back yet."

"I know right? She's always sooooo responsible. Always work work work. All the time! She never gets a break."

"So what do we do until she gets back?"

"I have no idea at all. Not even a sliver of a scrap of a shred of an inkling. Maybe we should wait for Barnabas."

"Who's Barnabas?"

"He's a friend of mine. A really really good friend. My brother Destruction introduced us."

"He can come find us if he likes. Come on, I'll get you an ice cream."

Jamie took her to a nearby ice-cream parlour, attracting strange looks from the passers-by. He was beginning to be accustomed to them. He ordered a mint chocolate chip for himself and asked Delirium what she wanted.

"Do they have chicken and telephone?"

"I don't think that's been invented by mortal man yet, Del."

"How about Andy Garcia?"

"They do have Cherry Garcia."

"Nah, I only want Andy. Maybe Al Cappucino?"

"They don't have that either Del."

"That's so boring! I don't want any ice-cream."

"Come on. How bout a Triple Berry Blast with a double scoop of mango/banana, covered in hot fudge and topped with nuts?"

"Oooh, yes please."

Jamie checked his pockets, which were distinctly lacking in human currency.

"This is embarassing. I don't seem to have any money with me," Jamie said weakly to the cashier, who looked irritated. Delirium sidled up beside him and slapped a twenty into his hand.

"Cool, guess I can pay after all. I owe you Del," said Jamie, taking both cups of ice-cream and making his way to a table.

"It was nothing. Someone gave me a dollar once. To buy food for Barnabas, he said. He was a convict. And also the Norse god of light."

"Uh-huh," mumbled Jamie, spooning ice-cream into his mouth. It was good. Death didn't have any in the house, which was a situation that needed to be rectified post haste.

"I have a few questions, if you'd like to answer them," Jamie continued. Delirium had leaned back in her chair and held a spoonful of ice cream in the air as high as she could, letting it drip into her open mouth.

"Go 'head," said Delirium, accidentally getting most of the ice-cream all over her face.

"First up. Why can people see us? They couldn't while I was with Didi."

"Who's Didi?"

"Your sister?"

"Ohhh. That's nice. I think I'll use it next time. Um okay. The reason why people can see us is because I want them to. That's it, I guess."

"That's it?"

"That is it. Although that depends on what your definition of 'it' is."

Jamie had nothing to say to that, so he concentrated on his ice-cream instead. He was getting the last chocolate chip when a furry German Shepherd trotted into the parlour and licked Delirium's fingers, making her giggle.

"That's a friendly dog," commented Jamie. The dog gave him a dirty look, insofar as canines were capable of giving such looks.

"The Lady Delirium is my mistress and I am sworn to protect and guide her whereever she may choose to go. Might I enquire who is it that has been keeping her company ever since I left her outside a football stadium in Johannesburg?" it said. It had a deep, educated voice, tinged with world-weariness and exasperation. It was a voice of a dog that had seen pretty much all there is to see and had learned not to be surprised by any of it.

Jamie chewed the chocolate chip slowly. "You can talk."

"Your grasp of the obvious is breathtaking."

"And you're pretty sarcastic."

"I would like to repeat my observation."

"You know, you're a dog who can talk and is pretty sarcastic, and spends most of his time following a young kid around…"

"What's your point?"

"I could have sworn I watched this before on _Fox_!" said Jamie, beginning to crack up. Delirium joined him. That, plus the surprisingly human look of annoyance on Barnabas's face set him off again.

"Are you two done?"

"Yes. Just about, I think," said Jamie, wiping away a tear.

"About bloody time. Don't ever run off like that again Del, I had enough trouble trying to find you the last time."

"Sorry."

"I was worried," said Barnabas, softening his tone.

"Sorry again," said Delirium. She reached over and scratched behind his ears.

"Just tell me before you dash off."

"But Didi was there! She would never do anything crazy. Well that was that one time in the old Soviet Union. Aaand the whole Welsh mountains thing. Oh oh, remember that whole week in Cuba? That was fantastic! And that's just on this planet."

"Del? Just who is Didi?"

"Oh, that's what Jamie here calls my big sis."

"Which one?" asked Barnabas.

"My big sis!"

"Oh. Her. Didi. Hmm. Good name, Mr. Jamie."

"Keane, actually. But you can call me Jamie."

"Hey! HEY! You can't bring a dog in here!" yelled the store manager. Every head in the ice-cream parlour turned to stare at him. Then all those heads minus three turned to stare at them.

"I'll handle this," mumbled Delirium.

"Good," whispered Jamie, glancing at the manager. "Now I'll talk to him and you two just try to remain inconspicuous - damnit!"

Delirium and Barnabas had vanished without a trace.

"Huh? What? Where did they go?"

"Where did who go?" said Jamie, quickly seizing upon the opportunity like a drowning man grasps at a life preserver.

"That weird girl and her dog," said the manager uncertainly. People were already losing interest and going back to their ice-creams.

"I came here alone, man."

"But – you ordered two cups of ice-cream! Why two?"

Jamie shrugged. "I like ice-cream."

"Just get out of here."

"Already gone."

Jamie left the shop, wandering nowhere in particular. Someone sneaked up behind him and covered his eyes.

"Didi, I know it's you."

"However did you guess?" she asked playfully, slipping her arm into the crook of his elbow.

"You use a very nice perfume."

"Thank you for noticing, it's very hard to get. Most of the ingredients can't even be found in this galaxy."

"Yeah, that and the fact that you're the only person in the whole universe who can see me."

"That is true."

"A talking dog came and left with your sister, by the way."

"That's Barnabas. He's a really nice guy."

"Dog."

"Dogs are people too. Did Delirium behave herself?"

"Define behave."

"Was anything set on fire, blown up or turned into a giant dancing purple penguin who belched the theme to _Evita_?"

"Now that you mention it, roughly seventy-three giant purple penguins by my count."

"Really."

"Nah, she was quite nice. You know, for a kid. I got her some ice-cream."

"Oh. I've...been meaning to do something like that. But something always came up in the meantime. You know how it is." Jamie thought Death sounded a tiny bit downcast, and she pulled away a little."

"Hey, you don't need to make excuses. You have the toughest job there could possibly be. I'm sure Del knows that."

"Yeah. I know it and she knows it too. I just wish I could spend more time with her, that's all. Even though she's technically billions of years old she's still just a kid, and there have been times in the past where certain problems could have been avoided if I'd just paid more attention to her."

"Didi. It's the dilemma of all elder siblings anywhere on the multiverse, at least the ones who actually care what happens to their little bro or sis. We humans haven't figured it out and it's kinda depressing to see omnipotent aspects of the universe clueless too."

Didi laughed and gave him a shove. "Jerk."

"But an insightful one, you have to admit."

"Only under pain of, well, death."

Jamie groaned. "That was so lame. I can't believe how lame that was. Take it back."

"Never!" Didi had linked arms with Jamie again, and prepared to open up the way home.

"Hey Didi?"

"Yeah?"

"You know, now that I'm helping you out you should have more time to hang out with Del."

"I'd really like that."


	8. Taken

**Note: **Hey guys, I'm writing again! Sorry it took so long. What finally got my ass in gear? I was idly clicking around TvTropes one day and to my astonishment I saw that my fic was on the list of recommendations for the Sandman. I cannot say how proud and pleased that made me feel. Ultimomant, thank you so much. I am now more determined than ever to finish this.

Enjoy!

**Chapter 8 - Taken**

Jamie was up at first light. He showered, shaved, and picked out his outfit. Despite what Death had told him about food, he had a bowl of multigrain cereal he found in the kitchen cupboard. Even death couldn't break his mom's lectures about healthy breakfasts.

Death came to the table late. She was still wearing the t-shirt and shorts that she had slept in, along with a pair of fluffy slippers. She made her usual cup of coffee and sat down, watching him eat.

"I have to thank you again for doing this. What you said last night, about not having a day off in forever? You don't know how right you are. I gotta say I'm kinda looking forward to this."

"Hey, I'm a nice guy. I keep my promises. Especially ones made to a lady."

Death rolled her eyes in mock exasperation. Jamie grinned and finished his cereal. He washed up the dishes and got ready to leave.

"Wait, before you go."

Jamie stopped with his hand on the doorknob. Death had removed the silver ankh she wore on a chain around her neck. Jamie couldn't remember seeing her without it before. She gave it to him and closed his fingers over it.

"Take my ankh. It's my sigil and chain of office, I suppose. Wear it when you're doing the job. And if you run into trouble…well, I hope you won't run into trouble. But I'll know about it."

"Thanks. I'll see you in a bit."

Death gave him a hug, and watched from her window as Jamie walked through the grass and vanished into the void between the worlds.

She had taught him how to do it last night. It was easier than it first looked. Death was the only being in the multiverse that knew exactly where she was, and where everyone else was. Reality, by comparison was insubstantial and fleeting compared to Death. Or to someone doing her job. All Jamie had to do was to think of where he wanted to go, and the void would open up to take him there. It wasn't really like moving towards some place. More like the universe rearranging itself so that the place where he needed to be was brought to where he was.

Jamie stepped through it, cloaked in the darkness drawn from the emptiness all around him. In this place darkness was not the mere absence of light, but a material substance in its own right. If you knew how, it could be shaped according to your whim. And after last night, Jamie knew how.

The planes of existence whipped past him, but Jamie ignored the first few million, searching for the one where he needed to go at that moment. The knowledge burned in his brain, an absolute terrible certainty of where he was supposed to be. Death was always on time, and Jamie had no intention of being late.

_Just step through here…_

Jamie emerged on a land with a red sky obscured by a storm of swirling sand. The landscape was bleak, desolated, and blasted. Huge rocks dotted the area, but he could not see a single living thing. For a moment he wondered if he had come to the right place. He walked around a little, looking for the being he was supposed to take, but he just couldn't see anybody.

"Hello? Anybody there?" Jamie called, before he realized nobody living could hear him. He was doing Death's job, dammit, he should be more professional about this…

A rumbling beneath his feet made him stop and squat down close to the sand. There definitely were huge reverberations, growing steadily louder and more violent, despite the wind. Jamie decided to back away slowly. When the rumblings actually grew louder than the wind, he gave up all pretense and started running like hell.

A gigantic cylindrical _thing_ erupted from the sand, shaking loose tons of earth as if they were as insubstantial as air. It looked like a worm, albeit one that was capable of gulping down the Empire State Building. Jamie was shaking in terror. The whale seemed tiny by comparison, and he couldn't control himself. One end of the worm split open to reveal a massive jaw, ringed with monstrous teeth as long as flagpoles. Stained, jagged flagpoles.

The sand worm paused, standing perfectly vertical. Its great mouth closed and opened a few times. Then to Jamie's utter astonishment, it began to sway, and finally crashed to the ground with an earth-shaking thud. The impact raised another storm of sand. It seemed like an eternity before it settled down again.

It was then Jamie saw the shade. It was no bigger than his foot. Although the sand worm was humongous, for some reason its shade was tiny. Jamie made a mental note to ask Death later, and then reached over to touch it. It was surprisingly easy. The worm had lived for a thousand years knowing only a single, simple want. Its hunger was finally over.

When the worm's shade had disappeared completely, Jamie searched his mind for his next location. It was the strangest sensation, knowing exactly where he was supposed to be at any given moment. It was as if new information was being constantly downloaded into his brain, but in a low-key manner so he didn't feel overwhelmed. Surprisingly enough, the next place he had to go to was…right here. He didn't need to move an inch.

The sands began to rumble ominously once more. This time Jamie didn't hesitate before taking to his heels.

**Soccer City football stadium**

**Johannesburg**

**South Africa**

A bird riding on the breezes above Jo'burg might have noticed the riot of colour surrounding the Soccer City stadium. Every colour of the rainbow was represented in the Rainbow Nation, but yellow, red and orange was predominant. The songs, cheers, and laughs of every language on Earth filled the air, as the fans waited patiently for kickoff to begin. The World Cup final would take place tonight, and the world had come to South Africa to watch.

A long line snaked a circuitous route from the city centre all the way to the stadium entrance gates, where fans who had managed to buy, beg or steal a genuine ticket to the final were allowed entry inside one by one. Some were drinking beer, some were making an awful din with their vuvuzela horns, and all looked excited to be present at the world's greatest sporting event.

All but five individuals, who waited stoically in line like all the rest but with a markedly different demeanour. Their eyes were hidden by dark glasses, the African sunshine glinting off white designer suits that looked like they cost a fortune. They weren't carrying flags, or banners, or horns or any of the usual paraphernalia that fans brought with them to a football match. They looked as though they were attending a business convention instead.

The Korean family behind them in line had tried to strike up a conversation, only to be met with total and utter indifference. The expressions on their faces forestalled all further attempts at socialisation. They simply stared straight ahead, moving forward when the line moved, standing still when it wasn't. Eventually they came to to gates. The stadium had filled up quite a bit by then, and there were drumbeats and songs echoing along with the incessant horn blowing.

"Goeie aand, vriende!" greeted the young man at the stadium booth. "May I see your tickets please?"

The group's apparent leader, a huge caucasian man with a shaven skull thrust his hand in his jacket's inner pocket and withdrew five tickets, handing it over for inspection.

"That seems to be in order. Enjoy the match guys! Who do you think's gonna win? My money's on Spain, but Holland have a great team this year."

"I really don't care," said the man, in tones of ice. He beckoned to his companions and they went past the gates without so much as a backward glance.

"Did you have to act like that?" asked one of the group, a plump woman with short blonde hair.

"Like what?" shot back the big bald man. They were hurrying through the corridors in the bowels of the stadium, although his long strides made it hard for the rest to keep up.

"Like a flashing neon sign that screams 'Hey everybody! I'm up to no good!' Christ Vorkosigan, you can be such an idiot."

"Shut up Claire."

"We'll probably have security breathing down our necks in a minute."

"Let them come," piped up another man, a short Indian man with dark eyes and hair. He looked the most uncomfortable in his tailored suit, and he drew out a long knife from his jacket, running his fingers along the side of the blade. "I'd enjoy taking care of them."

"Put that away you moron!" hissed the small Japanese woman beside him, her pretty face contorted in anger. "Do you want to get us locked up?"

He glowered, but stowed away the weapon. She brushed past him in irritation.

"Honestly Sabu, you never bloody _think._"

"Shut up, all of you," repeated the big man. "We have to set everything up just right."

"Where's Sydney, by the way?" asked the last member of the group, a young man who looked barely old enough to vote. His long brown hair fell to his shoulders, and he had kept his dark glasses on when all the rest had removed them once they were inside the stadium.

"She's already inside, Dirk. The corporate box, with all the fat cats."

"Lucky her."

"She'll meet up with us soon. The power she's been gathering for the past few weeks...you know how difficult it is. I'm glad the Teacher chose her to do it."

"While we get stuck doing all the legwork," grumbled the blonde woman.

"Lighten up," said Sabu. He flashed a grin. "Our job's way more fun."

"Some of us don't share your taste for bloodshed, Sabu."

"Too bad then. I've heard enjoying what you do makes all the difference."

Vorkosigan grunted, slowing down his steps. They had arrived at one of the planned detonation sites. From within the inner recesses of his jacket he removed a small pack of plastic explosives, and he attached it carefully to the base of the pillar before setting the timer.

They had gone over the schematics of the stadium with thorough detail in the weeks before. They had memorised security detail, load-bearing points, and the architectural blueprints revealing every last inch of the place. They had spent a fortune in bribes and countless hours all in preparation for this single moment.

Binding Death herself was a task of Herculean proportions. No, beyond Herculean proportions, his Twelve Labours a walk in the park compared to this. The men and women in service to the Teacher had called up staggering amounts of power over many long weeks, from places all across the globe. It was unthinkable, unimaginable. But it could reportedly be done.

In order to bind Death, they would first have to ensure that she was present. Any death could theoretically do it, even that of an insect. But the Teacher had decided no chances could be taken.

Death on this scale, and the chaos and fear that would follow would create an energy signature that would be like a beacon amongst the worlds. The destruction of the entire stadium, every last horrifying detail played out in front of hundreds of cameras that would relay the bloody carnage to billions of screens across the world...the Reaper would have to show up in person.

And when she did, they would be waiting for her.

Vorkosigan armed another explosive, and the group moved on.

**Dune**

Jamie was exhausted.

Once, back when he was alive, he had signed up for an unsanctioned boxing tournament. Each person put up fifty bucks, winner took home everything. A small ring was set up in the backyard of Mike Mizanin's house, a guy who wasn't exactly unfamiliar with police scrutiny. Half the school showed up to watch their buddies kick the shit out of each other. Mike provided the beer, charged admission and was promised a tenth of the winnings.

Some of the other guys were professionals, having been trained by actual coaches. Some were merely huge, beefy thugs ready to make a quick buck. Jamie was neither, so he did what he could do. For a month leading up to the bout, he trained every day to the point of exhaustion, and then did twice as much again. He'd secretly engaged Joey for extra help, and nearly gave up when his enthusiastic older brother introduced him to all new kinds of pain. Still he went on.

Jamie remembered a lot about the actual day. He was practically unknown, and everyone thought that either one of the football team guys would win, or one of the bikers. No one gave him a second glance. Instead, Jamie survived each round through quicker footwork and more stamina. When his opponents spent all their energy in furious attacks, Jamie dodged most of them, and tired them out for the win. The last round was against an amateur wrestler almost a head taller than him, but he was not in his natural environment.

Still, it was close, with the pair of them slugging it out for what seemed like forever. Just as Jamie felt like he wasn't able to lift his arms one more time, he remembered a little trick a friend of his father had taught him. He'd called it the Liverpool Kiss, and assured Jamie it would be able to finish any fight. He'd used it, and the huge lug crashed to the mat, utterly senseless. Jamie somehow managed to collect his money, give Mizanin his cut and staggered home. He pissed blood for a week and was feeling the bruises for three months afterwards. His mom banned him from all future tournaments, sanctioned or not.

The exhaustion he was feeling now was somewhat like what he was feeling just after the final fight of that tournament.

The sand worms just kept coming. One after the other, without stopping. Jamie had gotten more or less used to the way they kept rising from the sand, but there seemed to be no end to them. He must have crossed a couple hundred of them over, with barely a pause in between each one.

As he crossed over yet another shade, the little feeling in his head that had so far rooted him to this particular world fell silent. The rush of dying sand worms had finally stopped. Later Jamie would find out that they were a species that lived for hundreds of years underground and only came up to the surface to die, which they did almost all together at the same time. For now, all he knew was that he was dripping sweat like a fountain, covered from head to toe in sand and his clothes were ripped and torn. For a ghost he didn't seem to be able to remain unaffected by the environment.

He could kill for a cold drink and a shower. Despite getting more or less used to his strange new existence, Jamie felt a wave of homesickness so bad it was almost like the first time he had discovered he was dead.

An idea struck him. He could go back. Just for a moment. He knew the way, and Death wasn't looking over his shoulder. Who could blame him if he stepped back to Earth for five minutes?

_She gave you the job. She trusted you._

Jamie winced at the guilt. Of all that he had asked from Didi, she had given. She had let him perform her duties, and he understood full well this was not something she did often. Or at all. Jamie slumped to the ground, sitting on the sand.

Then he stood up again. He had to get back to Earth. Not because he wanted a cold drink or because he wanted to see a sky that was actually blue. But there was someone he had to see.

In order to do her job, Death needed to know the precise location of any living thing at any given moment, because they could be dead in the next. She also had the knowledge of how to get there. And now, doing the job for her, Jamie had that knowledge.

Jamie decided to give it a shot. A second later, the icy understanding filled his mind once more.

Morgan. She was in New York, where he had left her.

Jamie turned it over in his mind. Didi had put her trust in him. But he had to speak to Morgan, just once more. He couldn't do it as a ghost. She looked right through him like he wasn't even there. But as the Reaper...she'd have to see him.

"_I love you," she smiles, and laughs with delight at the star struck grin that immediately transforms his face, making him look younger, happier, less careworn. He remembers the music of her laughter and the smell of cinammon._

Jamie made up his mind. He'd just take a break. Ten minutes or so with Morgan, then back to the job. Didi wouldn't blame him for taking a break.

Before he could change his mind again, Jamie opened up the void and hurtled back to New York.

**Corporate Box**

**Soccer City Stadium**

**Johannesburg, South Africa**

Sydney Sherman stepped into the Corporate Box of the stadium, reserved for people who incidentally had zero interest in football, but who demanded the best seats in the place anyway. A hush immediately descended upon the room as the old men clutching glasses of champagne stopped their conversation to look at her. Wearing a blazer of dazzling white and a skirt that revealed a lot of long smooth white leg, she made hearts race and mouths dry up.

"Ms. Sherman, how delightful to see you!" exclaimed one of the men in a dark blue suit, old, fat and stinking of corruption and ill-deserved power. He advanced upon Sydney, both arms stretched out wide, a Hutt-like grin on his jowly face.

"Joseph. It's been far too long," she drawled, her lips drawn up in a lazy smile. She extended a long white hand instead, and the President of FIFA had to bend down and brush his lips against it. Sydney shivered mentally, and made a mental note to sterilize her hand thoroughly.

"Welcome, welcome," he exulted, pumping her hand energetically. And well he should have. She was the public face of the conglomerate that had provided the Association with funding well into the hundreds of millions. Most of it went directly into the president's pockets, and those of his cronies, but the Teacher wanted them to remain where they were. Corrupt men were the easiest to predict and control. And what the Teacher wanted, Sydney made sure that it was done.

It was a massive expense, and her heart ached at throwing away so much money down endless greedy drains, but in the new world she was promised, they would have wealth far beyond mere money.

Still, she was going to enjoy what she was about to do.

Two men in identical white suits stepped into the room behind her. Working quickly, they shut the door and locked it. Then slowly, deliberately they removed identical long barrelled automatic handguns from their shoulder holsters and took up position on either side of Sydney.

"What is this?" stammered the FIFA chief, the blood draining out of his face.

"Something I've been waiting all night for," said Sydney pleasantly.

Her men opened fire, delicately taking aim and hitting their targets in the head every time. The football money men died before they could cry out, slumping to the floor with dark blood and bits of grey matter seeping out from the holes in their heads.

When the last of them had been killed, Sydney held one of Blatter's hands and caressed it, almost like a lover. With the other, she retrieved a length of garrotte wire from her pocket.

He screamed and tried to run, but her guards barrelled him to the floor and tied a gag around his mouth. They tugged what remained of his hair and pulled his head up. Sweat was pouring off his face, and his eyes were wide and mad. He kicked and fought, but he was an old man and outmatched.

Sydney gently looped the wire around his neck, taking her time. There was much power in a death, if one knew how to harness it. When it was perfectly positioned, she twisted and pulled back with all her strength.

The wire sank into the sagging folds of his fleshy neck. Sydney appreciated the way his face turned black and his eyes rolled in their sockets, and the way his feet beat a wild, erratic rhythm on the floor. She didn't even mind when his bowels let go during the moment of death, filling the room with an indescribable stink.

Her task done, she released the wire and stood up. She nodded to her guards. They left the room and shut the door with a click. They would stand outside and prevent anyone from going in. She was not to be disturbed.

Sydney went around the room from one body to the other, dipping a finger into each puddle of blood pooled around each exploded head. She ran her tongue over her finger and exulted in the hot tang of iron.

As she fed, she muttered the words that would allow her to take power from her sacrifice, to become a channel for forces infinitely greater than she was.

She came at last to Blatter's body. Because he had died a bloodless death, Sydney removed a small metal spoon from her breast pocket. She dug into his eyes and pulled the eyeballs free, one after the other coming away with a soft pop. She bit into them, noting with interest that the juice that squirted into her mouth was not unlike that of an oyster.

Once done, she sat down in the exact centre of the room, folded her legs and bowed her head. She would need maximum concentration for the second part of the task.

The ticking of the clock, which had not been noticed over the hubbub of the conversation five minutes ago, now dominated the room. Fancy finger food cooled on the tables, champagne fizzed in their glasses and bottles, undrunk. Nothing was stirring save for Sydney's full red lips as she whispered under her breath.

**New York City**

Morgan flipped her hair out of her eyes and grinned with evil self-satisfaction.

"Trick question. The ball isn't considered offside, the player is. The player is flagged offside when there's only one member of the opposing team between him and the goal, and he is deemed to be interfering with play. He doesn't have to touch the ball."

A mix of loud groans and cheers greeted this pronouncement. Morgan's friends, Jacob and Ollie in particular, whooped loudly. Truy Phang held out her hand for the cash, which the visiting band of Englishmen handed over good naturedly.

"Anyone else want to bet that I don't know anything about the game?" said Morgan smugly. She had just won a free round of drinks.

"Not me, miss," said the young man who had initially made the bet. He had stiff blonde hair that stood straight up in spikes and was wearing a white England shirt with 'Gerrard 8' on the back. "I've learned me lesson."

His companions laughed again at that, apparently thinking it worth a few coins to see their friend humiliated. They turned away and began discussing loudly once more whether the Spanish or the Dutch would win the final.

"Spain have got all of Barca's team, they're practically invincible..."

"I fancy the Dutch, they've got that hard bastard van Bommel."

"He's a thug, Iniesta'll run rings around him."

"What do you know of Iniesta yer pillock, you support Norwich..."

"I get La Liga on Sky all right?"

"Three to one on Torres scoring? You're on."

"Extra hundred thrown in if he scores before half time?"

"Easiest bit of dosh I ever made, Martin. Don't cry when your Nancyboy snaps a hamstring halfway in."

Truy Phang returned from the bar carrying Morgan's Long Island Iced Tea. She took it and sipped happily. Her friends were right, the football World Cup Final was an event not to be missed. She hadn't been anywhere other than home and school ever since Jamie died.

He used to buy her Long Islands too, she remembered. He didn't drink himself, but he knew she liked one after a particularly trying day. He didn't smoke either, but he'd tried one at her urging. He'd coughed, stubbed it out while she laughed and teased him for not being able to handle it.

She regretted that. She regretted a lot of things.

Morgan shook her head. She refused to sink into despair once more. She had been utterly inconsolable, a devastated wreck in the weeks after Jamie's death. Part of the reason was that she blamed herself. If she hadn't run away, he wouldn't have had to chase after her.

Her schoolwork had suffered terribly, she'd quit band practise, she'd refused to talk to anyone, least of all her mother. She had written pages and pages of songs, and bit by bit, it helped. Some days she only thought of him once, or not at all. She hadn't thought that was possible, but time rolled forward as inexorably as ever, taking with it the raw hurt and pain of that day. She hadn't been to Jamie's grave since the funeral, and she didn't think she would ever go back. He wouldn't have wanted her to mourn forever.

"I'm going out for a smoke," she announced. "Anyone coming?"

No one felt like it, so Morgan slid off her stool and made her way outside. The June sunshine made her feel cheerful, something that she welcomed. She lit up, looked up and enjoyed the warmth.

"Those things can kill you, y'know," said a familiar voice.

Morgan whirled around and nearly swallowed her cigarette. Jamie was standing right there, grinning widely.

"Fuck!"

"Nice to see you too, Mor."

Morgan sat down, very suddenly. She stared up at Jamie, her eyes wide and round.

"Who are you?"

"It's me."

She tried to scoot backwards, scraping her hands on the pavement.

"Please, whoever you are, leave me alone. I don't want any trouble."

"Mor -"

"Please don't hurt me!"

"Mor, listen to me. My name is James Franklin Keane, yours is Morrigan Jean Murphy. You're a great singer, an even better songwriter, and your dearest wish is to ride on a humpback whale. One time in grade school we skipped gym class to get ice cream and that hobo chased us all the way home. Do you remember?"

Morgan stopped moving.

"I'd forgotten about that."

"I haven't."

"You don't have to be Jamie to know that. You could be some...some demon or something."

"I'm not a demon or a ghost. I'm me. I'm here. I've come back."

"Jamie, you're _dead. _Am I going mad, or...or...is this my subconscious speaking to me, am I confronting my guilt issues?"

Jamie sighed. He'd forgotten that Introduction to Freudian Theory class that Morgan had took.

"It'll take a while to explain..."

Morgan patted the patch of concrete next to her. Jamie sat down, and it was so familiar it was as if he had never left. He began by telling her what happened on the night he died, and ended up telling her everything. His purpose here on Earth. His new job and its responsibilities.

Jamie poured out his heart to his best friend and when he had finished it was as if no time had passed at all.

He finished speaking. Morgan was looking at him with keen interest. She hadn't interrupted him once or looked away throughout his entire tale. Sometime during the conversation her hand had reached out for his. He wanted to take it, but some unexplainable instinct made him hold back. Instead she patted him on the knee, and listened.

"Is this true? All of it?"

"Yes."

"And you're here because?"

"Because I wanted to see you."

Morgan lowered her eyes. "Jamie, I..."

"Don't you miss me?"

"I did. I do. You don't know the half of it. I spent months in agony. There were days where I literally did nothing but lie on the bed, stare at the ceiling and listen to The Beatles on loop. I was a wreck. A zombie."

"But I'm here now."

"I watched them put you in the ground. I watched them lower your coffin and shovel the earth back into the hole. I heard the words of the pastor. I saw you _die, _Jamie."

A chill crept down Jamie's back. This wasn't how he'd imagined their reunion to be.

"I thought I could never get over it. But I did. Somehow. I spent ages putting my life back together, bit by bit. And I got better," continued Morgan.

"Morgan, I love you," Jamie said suddenly. "I needed to come and see you."

"And I loved you too Jamie," she replied softly. "But you left me."

"It wasn't my fault!"

"I didn't say it was. Please, don't make it any harder for me than it already is. You're my best friend. I'll always love you. But what we had died on the same night you died. Nothing can change that."

"I can change it. I have powers now. I can do things. I know a lot of stuff," blustered Jamie, knowing with a forlorn futility that he was lying. Morgan gave him a skeptical look, the one he knew so well.

"The power you hold isn't yours. I may not have seen what you seen, but I know enough that you're involved with forces far more powerful than we can understand. Be careful, Jamie."

He stood up. So did she.

"So that's it? So long? Good luck?"

Morgan smiled. "It was nice to see you again."

"I meant it, you know," he said suddenly, not wanting to leave with the words unsaid.

"So did I. But I need to get on with my life. And so do you. You need to let me go and make my own way."

"I expect I'll see you again. At least once more."

"I'd like that," she said. She didn't take his hand, but leaned forward and gave him a small kiss on the cheek. She was hesitant, as if expecting to feel thin air, but Jamie was not a ghost, and far more substantial. He felt her lips on his skin and knew it would be for the last time.

Then his mind exploded.

Jamie opened his eyes. Pain, so overwhelming and so unexpected he was knocked over by the sheer force of it. Morgan was standing over him, looking terrified.

"Jamie, what is it? What happened?"

"South Africa," he grunted, the words forcing themselves through his teeth, without deigning to pass through his brain. He knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt that something horrific had happened. Without knowing how he was doing it, he vanished in the blink of an eye.

Terrified, Morgan rushed back into the bar. The once raucous crowd had gone completely silent. Every person in the place was staring, eyes riveted, to the small television screen, which had gone completely blank.

"What happened?"

"The stadium...the stadium blew up."

**Death's Domain**

**The Sunless Lands**

Death had once attended a council of the stars, back when the universe was young. Earth had not even been formed, and Sol was barely more than an adolescent, just happy to have been invited.

They had wanted to draw up boundaries and set rules, to create a sense of order out of the wonderful chaos. The greatest of them all had invited the Endless, hoping to benefit from their wisdom and guidance. Death had showed up, but it wasn't long before she got bored with the deadly dull speeches and discussions, and left in a huff. Of course, this all was long ago and she would never dream of being so rude now.

Still, when she arrived at the meeting place the stars had hastened to provide her with every material comfort that she could think of. Anything she requested would be brought to her promptly. Even while sneering at the council's efforts, she couldn't find anything bad to say about the service. She'd thought she would never again enjoy herself as much as she did back then.

"BACK IN BLACK! I hit the sack! I've been too long, I'm glad to be back!"

Furniture was shaking. The water in the goldfish bowl rippled violently, Slim and Wandsworth themselves were swimming around frantically. A little porcelain Scottish terrier jumped with each bone-jarring drum crash, and finally leapt off the mantelpiece and smashed onto the floor. Death didn't notice.

"...forget the hearse 'cause I'll never die! I got nine lives, cat's eyes, usin' every one of them and runnin' wild!"

She screamed into a non-existent microphone clutched in her fist, her hair whipping around wildly. The volume on her CD player was turned up to the maximum, just how she liked it. Part of the charm of living in her realm was not having to deal with neighbours.

"Well ahm...baaa-aaa-aaa-ack! Baaa-aaa-aaa-ack! BACK IN BLACK! Yes I'm BACK IN BLACK!"

She slid on her knees on the carpet for the big finish and threw her hands into the air, dragging the table askew. Slim and Wandsworth's bowl moved precariously close to the edge, and Death hurriedly pushed it back. She then flopped onto the floor, exhausted.

She couldn't remember having the time to listen to all of her music before. It seemed like she had been spending more and more time on the job, before she'd met Jamie. Now that he was helping out, she could indulge in some quality R n R. Maybe a nice long bath, she hadn't had one of those in ages…

It was wonderful to just zone out, Death thought, as she luxuriated in a delicious bubble bath. She had poured in every kind of scented oil and body gel she could think of before sinking in and just letting herself relax. She could feel the tension leaving her body with every passing second.

Whenever she had come home to catch a break in the past, she could never have completely detached herself from her duties. The universe was vast, and there would always be someone somewhere who needed her attention. Even if she was at home, some part of her would be elsewhere, helping souls to cross over. Not today, however. For the first time in memory, and Death had a long, _long _memory, she felt completely and utterly at ease. There was no sound save the sloshing of the water in the tub. She idly soaped her arms and her legs, taking her time. Thanks to Jamie, she had all the time in the world.

After her bath, she planned to curl up beside the fireplace with a good book. Her brother's aide Lucien had made her a present of several fine novels when she visited his court recently. She was looking forward to reading the final three volumes of George R. R. Martin's _A Song of Ice and Fire_ series, as she couldn't wait for the man to set pen to paper much longer.

She had just squeezed in a fresh bottle of melon and mango lotion when she became aware of a strong silvery light flashing on and off outside her bathroom door. She felt like throwing something at it. The light could only mean one thing. Of all the times they could have picked, one of her siblings wanted to speak to her. She could ignore whoever it was, of course, but Death made it a point of principle to always answer when someone wanted to talk. They were a family after all, even if at times she felt as though she was the only one who remembered the fact.

A second later, she appeared fully clothed and thoroughly clean in her long gallery, in the basement of her little house. A row of mirrors, each one a different shape and size, were hung up along one wall. Each mirror had the respective sigil of her sibling in the centre. There was a book, a helm, a sword, a heart, a hooked ring, and a swirl of bright colours. It was the heart that was glowing as brightly as a star, beaming dazzling silver light and illuminating her entire basement. Death felt like going back to her bathtub. The heart was the symbol and sigil of her younger sibling, Desire.

It took patience to deal with Desire. Of all her siblings, it was perhaps Desire who gave Death the biggest headaches. Desire delighted in toying with the lives of mortals. He/she played long, complex games out of sheer boredom, usually leaving behind a dreadful mess. There was that whole bother over the Greek queen which led to the siege of Troy, and the deaths of a number of heroes. Desire had got into a bit of trouble with the Olympian Pantheon over that one. Desire manipulated, cajoled, pit friend against friend, turned entire nations on each other, merely for his/her amusement. Desire was capricious and cruel, and probably the sibling that Death least liked spending time with.

"Dear sister," intoned a voice, echoing from the mirror which held the glass heart. It was a silken purr of a voice, the kind of voice that could make you stop whatever it was you were doing just to listen to it for the rest of your life. It was as sweet and as deadly as poisoned honey.

"I am standing in my gallery, holding your sigil. Will you have words with me?"

"If you must," muttered Death. The glass heart flashed brightly once more, and a moment later Desire appeared in her gallery.

**The former site of the Soccer City Stadium**

**Johannesburg**

**South Africa**

The third thing Jamie noticed was the noise. People were screaming at the top of their lungs. Men, women. Little children. Their screams were not ones of playful hilarity, or even shrieks of terror, but the raw, unending expression of pain, agony so intense only death could bring relief.

The second thing Jamie noticed was the smoke that turned the sky black, the jagged edges of broken rubble, the steam escaping from cracked and exposed pipes. He'd been to the Soccer City stadium, not too long ago. He'd walked along its stands with the ladies Death and Delirium. It was now barely more than a massive crater in the ground.

But the first thing he noticed, the first thing that struck his mind and assailed his senses, was the smell.

The smell of smoke, thick in the air. The smell of oil, and ash, and burnt meat. But most of all, the smell of blood.

Death had been good to him. She had not brought him to battlefields. She had not brought him to murder scenes. He had yet to be exposed to scenes as horrific as this one.

He had seen movies and watched television, and heard the stories his dad and his brother had told him, of course. He'd been in a few fights, he'd even been on a hunting trip once. But they were nothing in comparison to the carnage that was before his eyes.

The Soccer City stadium could hold a maximum of 80 000 people, who had been jammed pack as they waited for the final to begin. The explosives had gone off minutes before the kick off. The huge supporting pillars had fallen over, entire stands and balconies had crushed the people sitting below. Whole chunks of the stadium were ablaze, caused by the hiss of escaping gas and stray sparks. It was nothing short of hell on Earth.

Jamie stood still for a moment, his mind just staggering from the overwhelming assault. Then the screams of the dying jolted him into action.

He ran across the blasted landscape, reaching out his hand, touching the shades of the deceased as fast as he could. He knew this wasn't the way Didi had showed him, and the recently dead deserved a few moments to come to terms with their own death. But he had no time. More shades were filling up the space, brought into being as the life fled from their bodies. He crossed over one after the other, their lives flashing before his eyes, but he had no time to pause and reflect and recover. He could not bear to hear the sound of their agony any longer than he had to.

Didi had not shown him how to deal with a crowd situation either. He had started small, learning every aspect of her job, from the smallest and most inconsequential of duties and slowly working his way upwards. He thought he had the rest of the lifetime of the universe to learn on the job. Now he was trying to cross over thousands of humans at once.

Jamie moved like a shadow, quickly touching his hands to theirs, mind reeling from all the horror and the hurt they had experienced. It was like trying to row up a raging river. The roar drowned out all other sound and he was giving it everything he had, but sooner or later he was going to have to give up and sink beneath the water.

As Jamie knelt down to clasp the hand of a young woman who had a blood-slicked steel girder where her stomach should have been, something that felt like a burning chain snaked around his neck and was drawn tight around his throat. He clawed at it, gasping for air.

He barely had time to wonder what the hell was going on before he blacked out.

**Death's Gallery**

**Death's Domain**

**The Sunless Lands**

Desire was wearing an elegant smoking jacket in a shade of deep, blood red, red silk pajama pants, and Persian slippers. He/she looked like a woman, a man, or anything in between, with eyes the colour of molten gold. His/her hair was short and slicked back, and he/she was smoking a fine cigarillo. It punctuated the air with a harsh, acrid smell that made Death wrinkle her nose.

"Rather sharp, isn't it?" remarked Desire, noticing. "Magnificent cut, from one of those planets whose mortals breathe smog. It takes them a year and a day to make each little stick. Fancy a taste?"

"No thank you, Desire. Please tell me what's on your mind, because I was kind in the middle of something."

"Say no more! I understand perfectly." Desire said, and sat down on a luxurious, high-backed armchair that had not been in Death's gallery a second ago. He/she crossed one leg over the other and looked up at his/her elder sister with an insolent grin. Every movement was made with a sinuous grace. His/Her voice was a delectable silken purr that would have seduced a company of saints.

"You said you were in the middle of something. Aren't you supposed to be at work? Performing your timeless duties which have been entrusted to you since the first breath of this multiverse? Your sacred, immense responsibilities that define you and the rest of us all?"

Death folded her arms and glared at Desire. It couldn't have lasted, one of them surely would have noticed what was happening. It was something she had to deal with, that was all. She'd just hoped she would have had a little more time before someone found out, or it was someone other than Desire who did. Of all people!

"Desire, if you're trying to get a rise out of me, forget it."

"I am merely concerned for you, dear sister. Imagine my shock when it came to my attention that your presence was not felt among the planes, when it had always been since time out of mind? I simply had to make sure you were all right," Desire said in injured tones, although a malicious smile played about his/her lips.

"Desire…I'm just doing a kindness to a mortal soul. I helped him and now he's helping me. That's all there is to it."

"Is it really? Do you make a habit of inviting mortals back to your house? Or allowing one to do your job? One wonders what else the two of you have been up to."

Death said nothing, and Desire became aware of a certain chill in the air. It went beyond metaphor, actual frost was forming on the surfaces of the mirrors. Too late, Desire was reminded of a time when his/her sister wasn't as laid-back as she was presently. Death was the sweetest, kindest, and most patient of the family…but you really didn't want to make her mad. Desire decided to backtrack a little.

"I can tell when I've crossed a line, sister-"

"Desire, honestly, it's none of your concern. I'll deal with Jamie Keane in my own way. Until then, I'd appreciate it if you stay out of my affairs."

"I was just trying to warn you. I'm not the only one who's noticed what's been going on. I hope our elder brother doesn't have anything to say about this."

Smirking as he/she delivered the parting shot, Desire disappeared as quickly as he/she arrived. Death stalked out of her gallery, slamming the door behind her.

Damn Desire…was it too much to ask for a little help? She'd helped out Jamie and her sibling was acting as though she had brought a mortal back for a one-night stand, which Desire knew a thing or two about. No, she wouldn't stand being hectored by Desire over Jamie.

She didn't know _how _she felt about him, which was a rarity in itself. She cared for countless mortals, knew all their stories, their dreams and ambitions and fears and hopes. But not everyone appreciated what she did, the gift she had to offer. Jamie however, was different.

Still…there were rules. There were always the rules.

Death ran her hands through her hair distractedly, and noticed the light flashing again from under her gallery door.

**Unknown**

There were no dreams. Just time passing, and suddenly Jamie was awake. He was sitting on a metal folding chair, the type that filled up meeting halls in their thousands. His arms had been tied together behind the chair with what felt like thick cords. His legs were bound to the chair's legs. He was naked. Someone had removed his clothes.

For some reason, the person who had kidnapped him had left the silver ankh that Death had given him around his neck. It was the only thing he had on. Jamie looked around wildly. He appeared to be in an abandoned warehouse of some sort. His chair was in the centre of a long, dark room, with piles of boxes and rubbish stacked up everywhere. A row of grimy windows were set along one sloping roof. Skylights above him only allowed the faintest bit of light to filter through.

"He's awake."

Three men and three women appeared out of the darkness and gathered in front of him. They were dressed in expensive-looking suits and stared at him with frank and open curiousity. Jamie tried to glare back, but they didn't seem the least bit concerned.

"Of all the people she could have chosen, she picked him? You have to wonder what she must be thinking," remarked one of the women. She looked Japanese, young, with an expression that suggested Jamie was as significant as something stuck to the sole of one of her expensive shoes.

"Hush," interjected one of the men. He was the tallest, and the widest, a Caucasian man with a clean-shaven head that gleamed in the dull light. "Sydney requested we hold him and wait for further orders from the Teacher. We're not supposed to talk to him."

They lapsed into silence, still staring. Jamie couldn't take it any longer.

"Who the hell are you people? What the hell do you want with me?" he snarled, struggling a little.

"Don't even try. You can't escape," said another man. He looked barely out of his teens, his babyface framed by soft brown hair that fell to his shoulders.

"Where is the Teacher?" the bald man asked another woman. She had short blonde hair and looked like she could win an eating competition against a grizzly bear. She took out a cellphone and began texting. After a minute or so, there was a reply.

"He's not in this country, Sinkowicz's trying to get a plane for him. We're to keep him here until he arrives, or until Sydney says otherwise," she said, snapping her phone shut.

"Can't we get him to talk a little in the meantime? We could discover important information," asked the third thug. He was a young Indian man, and looked the most uncomfortable in his ill-fitting suit. He had been staring at Jamie with the utmost malice all this while.

The blonde woman shrugged. "The Teacher said he didn't care one way or another, as long as we don't touch that ankh he wears. That's what he wants to be kept safe."

"The ankh?" mused the teenager. "You don't suppose…"

"You shouldn't even think about it," growled the bald man. The teen shut up instantly. The Indian man didn't say anything. He took out a knife from his jacket pocket and pressed the blade against Jamie's cheek.

"You can't hurt me," gasped Jamie. "If you know how to capture me, then you should know that I'm already dead."

"Oh, the things you don't know," the young Indian man said softly. He cut deep, and Jamie screamed.

**Death's Domain**

**The Sunless Lands**

In her gallery, Death was staring with astonishment at a mirror which had not been there yesterday. It resembled the ones she used for keeping in contact with her siblings, except it had the faint outline of her own sigil on it, the ankh. She hadn't noticed it earlier, but then again Desire tended to take up most of her attention whenever he/she was around.

It was flashing urgently, painting the little room with brilliant silver light. Something was terribly wrong.


	9. Everything's Changing

**Chapter 9 – Everything's Changing**

It was later. Pain had happened.

Jamie sat in his chair, alone in the darkness. His captors had left for a while, presumably to eat or sleep. He was bruised and bleeding, the result of hours of work from both the bald man and the young punk. His jaw felt broken. His cheek and chest had been cut open repeatedly, the blood left to run and dry on his body. He had been hit in the gut so many times he had thrown up everything there was to throw up. The ankh rested against his chest, gleaming silver. They had been careful not to touch it.

_I'm supposed to be dead_, thought Jamie. _Dead. The dead are not supposed to feel pain._

Evidently, something had changed.

The cords were good and tight. Jamie could only move his head. Despite trying his best, there was no way he could break out. He briefly considered rocking his weight to turn over the chair, but it seemed to be bolted to the floor. As for the void, he had tried to open the portal back to the void between the planes countless times. Nothing had happened. They were blocking every single route of escape, somehow.

_Didi doesn't know I'm in trouble. I don't know how to contact her._

They had asked him questions. They had tried to get him to spill everything he knew about Didi, although that wasn't what they called her. Defeater of Empires, Swallower of Oceans, Keeper of the Dread Gateway they had named her instead. Like something out of an old-school metal song. But he had given them nothing. Even as the little punk with the knife had carved him like a piece of meat, he refused to give them anything. He had screamed a lot though. His throat felt raw and painful.

The ankh. They wanted the ankh for some reason. If only he could remember what Didi had told him about the ankh.

Sitting in the darkness, with the blood from his wounds drying, the memory came to him as clear as if it had happened five minutes ago.

"_Take it. And if you run into trouble, I'll know about it."_

Jamie found himself thinking about Didi. Her bright eyes, her merry laugh, the way she had of smiling that managed to be both a smirk and gentle amusement at the same time. He thought about her, and the pain didn't seem so bad as before.

The silver ankh hanging around his neck felt warm, as if it was being heated by an invisible flame. The heat was strong, but not uncomfortable. Jamie looked down at his chest. The ankh looked exactly the same, with no visible clue to explain for the sudden rise in temperature.

He felt a renewed sense of determination. Whatever those thugs wanted, he resolved not to let them take it from him.

There was a noise behind him, the sound of a shoe being scuffed against concrete. Jamie quickly hung his head and faked being unconscious. He kept his body loose and tried not to stiffen his muscles, even as a hand roughly grabbed his chin and turned his head from side to side.

"He's out," said a voice. Jamie recognized the Japanese woman.

"Is he dead?"

"Isn't he already dead? Killing him again would be quite an achievement, don't you think?"

"Shut up, I can see him breathing. Remove those bonds and put him on the slab. Be careful not to touch the ankh."

His arms and legs were untied. Blood rushed back into swollen limbs. Jamie forced himself to remain motionless. He felt himself being carried up and laid upon something hard and cold.

There would only be one chance. Timing was everything. His thoughts drifted back to a conversation he once had with a friend of his father's, during a 4th of July barbeque.

"_Kid."_

"_Hello Mr. Earnshaw," Jamie said brightly. He was enjoying the cookout and the camaraderie. Staff Sergeant Rick Earnshaw was one of his father's oldest friends, and had been coming over every 4__th__ of July since before he was born. He was married, but didn't have any children of his own._

"_Come here, I've got something to tell you."_

_Jamie did as asked._

"_Now kid," Rick began. He had a beer in his hand, by no means the first of the day. He set it down carefully on the grass. "Do you get into fights?"_

_Jamie thought about the bullies who had bothered Jeff._

"_Nope, not really."_

"_Good kid. You're not like Joey at all, let me tell you. Well, if you ever get into a fight, you have to remember one thing. Anything can be used as a weapon in a tough situation, as long as you're fast enough. Here, let me teach you something. Used at the right time, it'll let you beat anyone in the world. People call it the Liverpool Kiss."_

Jamie sensed that the group had bought his little act and let their guard down. The big man was saying something about strapping him down. The time had come. He opened his eyes and swung off the slab, screaming at the top of his lungs. _Always scream, _Joey had told him. _It might buy you a second or two, and that's all you'll need sometimes._

It worked. His abductors could only gape in shock as Jamie grabbed the front of the bald man's suit and pulled it roughly towards him. At the same time, he launched himself forward, lowering his head slightly. Jamie wasn't an especially tall guy, so it wasn't a perfect Liverpool Kiss. His forehead slammed into the man's nose with a satisfying crunch, sending blood spurting everywhere. Before the others could react, Jamie shoved the big man aside and sprinted away like all hell was after him.

It was a big warehouse. Jamie ran past one stack of crates and boxes after the other, his bare feet slapping the concrete. There didn't seem to be a clear way to the exit. He felt exhausted and with each step he took, the wounds on his body flared with agonizing pain. It was clear he was reaching the absolute limits of his endurance.

He could hear his abductors behind, calling to one another, shouting frantically. The big bald man was alternating between bellowing in pain and screaming orders at all who would listen. Jamie reached a particularly tall heap of junk and hid behind it, gasping for breath. The cuts on his chest had split open under the exertions and were once again flowing with blood. He tried to breathe less noisily, and attempted to open up the void that led back to Death's realm once more. It still wouldn't work.

Jamie had just about given up when he saw the exit. Two huge doors, partially obscured by trash and the gloom. To reach it, he would have to cross a long stretch of open space where his captors would almost undoubtedly see him. He decided to chance it. After all, he didn't have any other choice.

Jamie had just taken his first step when a beautiful woman stepped in front of him. She was dressed in the same cream-coloured suit as his other captors and had long red hair. Jamie couldn't tell where she came from, it was as if she appeared out of nowhere.

"Please, stop what you're doing Jamie. We don't want to hurt you," she said gently. She spoke in a slow, soft tone that was almost soothing.

"That's a laugh," spat Jamie, indicating the slashes on his body.

"My companions are a little overenthusiastic. If I was here earlier, this would not have happened, I assure you."

"I don't know that, do I? Seems to me that you bastards will do anything to get what you want."

The woman remained unperturbed. "You are right, of course. I prefer the carrot while my companions would choose the stick, but in the end we will get what we want."

"Save your breath. I'd rather die than hand it over," said Jamie. He closed a fist around the ankh, protectively. "You'll never take it."

The woman appeared amused. "But you're already dead."

"Then I'll die again. I don't care, I'm not afraid."

"You should be," she said. It wasn't a threat, or a derisive remark. It was a simple statement of fact. She began to inscribe a complex pattern in the air with an index finger, which glowed with an unearthly yellow light. A gout of flame erupted from it and raced through the air, curling upwards as if wrapped tightly around something invisible. Then with a flash, the shade of a man appeared, chained in fire. He appeared to be in terrible agony, although his wide-open mouth made no sound. His eyes met Jamie's for an instant, with a look of desperation and terror.

Jamie felt a shiver down his spine. He knew exactly who the man was. The President of FIFA, screaming in soundless agony, clawing at his empty eye sockets from which blood flowed in seemingly endless rivers. They had killed him and trapped his shade, to be used for God alone knew what. The woman with the red hair snapped her fingers. Suddenly everything vanished, both the shade and the fire.

"As you can see, we are not without power. And unless I am very much mistaken, my companions are already behind you."

Jamie shot a glance over his shoulder. The other five had surrounded him. They looked pleased to see the woman with the red hair.

"Sydney, at last," said the bald man, wiping blood from his nose. "Now we can put an end to this foolishness."

"Hello Vorkosigan," she said calmly. "What happened to you?"

"The little bastard broke my nose. I'm gonna make him pay."

"You can do whatever you like after we get the ankh from him. That's all the Teacher needs."

"My pleasure," growled Vorkosigan. As if on some hidden cue, they removed various weapons from their inner pockets and advanced upon Jamie. He turned to face them, still clutching the ankh. He might die, or suffer some worse fate, but he would not do anything that might help them to do harm Didi.

Jamie prepared to fight back, although he wasn't sure what he could do against so many enemies. He couldn't try the same trick again, and he was half-delirious with the loss of so much blood. He couldn't last much longer without passing out on his own.

Suddenly there was a rush of wind and the fast-becoming-familiar sensation of the world around him opening up, as if he were standing on the edge of a precipice that overlooked a drop into infinity. Then Death stepped out of the void and into reality, her eyes blazing, her lips set in a firm, hard line. Jamie had never seen anything more beautiful in his life or death.

"Jamie!" she shouted. "Are you alright?"

"Been better," he mumbled through the pain of his broken jaw. The world seemed to be spinning slowly in front of his eyes.

"What the _hell _is going on? Why are you people doing this?" she demanded, striding forward completely without fear. "You have no idea how much trouble you're in!"

The group was flabbergasted by her sudden arrival. The big bald man had stopped in his tracks, and was staring in amazement at her. The rest of the group was dumbstruck, looking at her with jaws slack with disbelief. Nobody seemed to be paying any more attention to Jamie.

"That's…that's her! That's Death herself!" screamed the blond woman. She dropped the gun she was carrying and clutched at the front of her suit.

"Oh, so someone does realise what they've done, don't you Claire Jones?" remarked Death archly. "Yes, I know who you are. I know who all of you are. Sabu, Dirk, Vork, Belle." Each of them flinched as Death rattled off their names. "What I don't know is who made you think that doing this would be a good idea. I want an answer. _Now._"

Jamie had begun moving very slowly towards the opening of the void which Death had left open. Wounded as he was, he couldn't move faster. Something nagged at him though, something both he and Didi had overlooked…

The teenager with the long hair muttered something in reply to Death's question, and jumped as she yelled back at him. "The Teacher? Is that who's behind this? For crying out loud, I thought he gave up years ago! That does it, I am going to do something about him and stop all this nonsense. Jamie, we are going home right now."

Death had her back to him, Jamie having reached the edge of the void opening. He was about to step in when he realized just what it was he had missed.

She had not seen the sixth member of the little group, the woman with the red hair who had blown up a stadium and murdered thousands of people for the sole purpose of luring Jamie to a place where he could be taken and tortured. She was hiding in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike.

"Didi, look out!" he bellowed. But it was a second too late.

The woman, Sydney, emerged from her hiding place and pointed both her hands straight at Death. Burning rivers of flame spilled from her fingers and flowed straight towards Death. For one horrible moment, Jamie saw a look of shock and horror in her eyes. Then the flames curled around her and were drawn tight.

"NO!"

Bleeding, naked, in pain and not caring, Jamie tried to rush forward, trying to rescue Didi. The fire seared into her clothes and her flesh and she screamed in pain.

"NO! GET AWAY FROM HER!"

"Dirk, Sabu, get him!" yelled the red-haired woman, maintaining her arms outstretched. "I can't do anything while I'm holding her!"

"We've got her, what do we need him for?" cut in the Asian girl, Belle.

"The ankh! He still has it!" said Sydney, more fire streaming from her hands.

Jamie wasn't listening. He'd leaped at the teen with the long hair they called Dirk and managed to land a lucky uppercut square on his chin. His head snapped back and he crumpled to the ground. But Vork and Sabu had moved into position and despite his injury, Vork still looked capable of breaking Jamie in half with his bare hands. Sabu was brandishing his knife, waving it around.

"The Teacher is gonna love this!" he shrieked, swiping at Jamie. He jumped backwards, narrowly avoiding the blade. The effort took the last of his strength and Jamie realized with a cold, sickening dread that he could not win this fight. But neither would he abandon Didi to their mercies. He looked at her desperately, still trapped in the flames, writhing in agony. He didn't know what kind of power it took to trap and hurt Death herself, but somehow this band of thugs possessed it.

Didi seemed to sense his thoughts. She twisted around and caught his eye, her mouth open as if she was saying something, although Jamie could hear nothing. Then a message struck his brain, not speech but the very idea of words. Jamie grabbed the ankh around his neck reflexively and held it tight.

_Run! Go now!_

Incredibly, Jamie felt new strength and energy flowing into his body from the ankh. He felt his flesh slowly knit together, his jaw resetting itself. Instinctively, he knew that Didi was responsible. Trapped and in pain, she was still doing all she could to save him.

Then she screamed again, a cry so full of pain and terror it broke Jamie's heart. He had done this, he had gotten Didi into this situation, and now she was telling him to leave her behind and save himself.

"I'll come back. I'm coming back for you. I promise," Jamie whispered, tears rolling down his cheeks. Then he leapt into the opening and escaped to the void between the worlds.

**Jones Country Manor**

**Shropshire, England**

The hills and fields of the English countryside have to be seen to be believed. If you've only ever known the dull grey dreariness of a city your whole life, the intense green of the landscape was overwhelming at first glance.

In the young man's opinion, there was nothing like it in the entire world. He had travelled the length and breadth of the planet, from trekking across sandy deserts to hacking his way through steaming jungles, crossing oceans and rivers and mountains. He had spent many years moving, never stopping, always searching for the next sight, the next place he had yet to discover.

But after a while one gets tired of what the world has to offer, and longs to return home once more. For the young man, that was the rural and almost deserted areas of England.

His name was Owens. He had short blond hair and the easy-going countenance of someone for whom life was one pleasant surprise after the other. He wasn't particularly tall or big, in fact he was pretty difficult to pick out in the crowd. He had a knack of blending into the background to avoid unwanted attention, the better to observe the world around him.

Owens was working with a spade, rhythmically digging into the ground. Sweat ran down his cheeks and dripped from his chin as the sun dipped in the sky. It was a rare English summer evening, so warm and delicious it seemed an awful waste to spend it indoors.

He knelt down in the dirt and carefully dropped a few seeds into the little hole he had made. He covered up the earth with his hands, making a little mound. The seeds were from a rare plant he had taken from one of his many travels, and with a little luck it would flourish and grow in his garden.

The garden was just one of the many that surrounded the manor that sat in the distance, looking just like a slumbering child curled up underneath the blankets against the hilly backdrop. It was very old, and belonged to Owens, just one of the many properties he owned scattered around the globe.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, and walked back towards the manor. A long bath would do him good. A bath, a drink of something amber in a tall glass, and an arm around the wife as they curled up on the couch together, watching the World Cup final. One of the many, many things Owens loved about his wife was that although she had absolutely zero interest in football (which she persisted in calling 'soccer'), she didn't mind watching it with him.

He reached the door of the manor and swung it open. "Cor! Hey Cor, would you like a drink? It's so warm out there," he called out cheerfully.

There was no answer. Owens could hear his voice echoing through the manor. Despite himself he felt a prickle of fear creep down his spine.

"Cor?" he called again, a shade more nervously this time. Almost without thinking he began to grow more insubstantial, as if he was fading away into nothingness. He could hear the faint sound of the television in the lounge and that was where he went, ready for anything.

His wife was sitting on the couch, her eyes riveted on the screen. She didn't look up when Owens came in, and he dropped his veil immediately, feeling a little exasperated.

"Why didn't you answer me?" he began, but his voice trailed away as he noticed something extremely odd. His wife was unusually pale, and her eyes looked wet with tears. She never cried. Ever. She was one of those women who never got emotional or frightened over anything. As relieved as he was to find her safe and sound, Owens felt even more unsettled.

"Bod," she whispered. "Bod, look."

Owens turned to look at the television screen. It was the BBC channel, and at first he thought they were showing some war zone in the Middle East or Russia or somewhere. There was a huge, smoking crater, with emergency services personnel crawling over it like so many ants. Rubble and dead bodies were strewn everywhere.

He saw the caption underneath the picture and had to reach out for the edge of the couch to steady himself. The words "TERRORIST ATTACK ON THE SOCCER CITY STADIUM" screamed at him in bright red capitals.

"Johannesburg? The World Cup Final?" he managed to say.

Coraline could only nod.

"Absolutely horrific scenes today as terrorists attacked the Soccer City stadium ahead of tonight's World Cup final match," the newswoman was saying. "Thousands dead, with many more critically injured. The main committee of FIFA and both the Spanish and Dutch national teams are currently missing, presumed dead. South Africa has declared a state of national emergency as the world reels in pain and shock."

"We need to do something."

"What can we do?"

Coraline's lips were set in a firm, hard line, and her eyes were blazing. Bod knew that look very well. Someone somewhere was going to _pay_.

"I'll get the passports."

"Thank you, sweetie," said Coraline in a voice of steel.

**xxxx**

The Teacher had made it abundantly clear to his followers that his meditation was never to be disturbed, by anyone for any reason.

Every single day, without fail, at precisely noon, the Teacher would assume a seated lotus position, legs crossed, arms resting comfortably on his knees. He would then meditate for at least an hour, sometimes more. He did not mind if others joined him, but they were not to make a single sound. Those who did were taken quietly away by the big men who stood at the door and were rarely, if ever, heard from again.

Still, for news as big as this, exceptions could be made.

One of the big men crossed the length of the room, a trip of several minutes, to bend down and whisper a message in his ear. The old man's eyes shot open, and he grabbed the guard's face and wrenched it down so that he was looking straight into his eyes.

"Repeat what you said."

Despite looking powerful enough to break the Teacher in half over his knee, the huge guard looked utterly terrified. His next few words came out in a stammering rush.

"Teacher...it's Ms Sherman. She said that it worked. She said that her group managed to capture and bind Death."

A slow, terrible expression spread across the Teacher's face, one that had not been seen in living memory. It was one of pure, simple joy, but something that would have been heart warming on the face of a child seemed horribly out of place on the Teacher's ruined, ancient features. It reminded the guard of the teeth-filled grin of blind things swimming the ocean's depths, never seeing the light.

"At last," he whispered to no one in particular, his eyes lost in a thousand-yard stare. "At long last. I have captured _her. _There is none who can stop us now."

He let go of the guard, who massaged his neck and backed away quickly. The Teacher threw on his abandoned robe and headed for the door with surprising speed.

"None can stop us!"

The Teacher strode the corridors of his penthouse, barking orders to his army of followers. He felt it now, the rush of energy that he hadn't experienced in centuries. He had done unspeakable things, black, evil deeds to reach this point, the culmination of untold years of work and finally, finally it was all coming together.

"Contact our people in the media. I want non stop, twenty four hour coverage on the explosion at the World Cup final, and of the events that will transpire soon."

"Yes, Teacher!"

"Contact our Scotland base. I want our stronghold there to be prepped and ready for the welcoming of our very distinguished guest."

"Right away, sir."

"And contact Ms Sherman and her team. They are to be rewarded. Immediately."

**xxxx**

Jamie was once again in the void between the worlds, and it was freezing. He weakly fashioned a crude coat out of the darkness, and sighed with relief as his limbs lost their stiffness. Although cold, tired and in pain, he had never before been so glad to be back in the void.

He massaged his limbs, trying to get some blood flowing, and trying not to think about the impossibility of flowing blood while one was dead. If he focused on the physical, on the sensations he felt and the here and now, he could ignore if for a moment the staggering, horrifying truth of what had happened to him.

He had messed up. He was entrusted to do the Duty, he had made a mistake and messed up so badly everything he'd ever done wrong in his life seemed puny by comparison. And because of him, Didi was lost, caught in the thrall of sinister people who undoubtedly wanted to pervert her power for their own ends.

With nowhere to go, Jamie opened up the way back to the Sunless Lands. He needed to figure out a way to rescue Didi. But he was still feeling the effects of the torture, although they seemed to be fading and grew more dull with each passing moment. He needed to get Didi back...but he couldn't fight the waves of exhaustion that were threatening to overwhelm him.

Bright light. The smell of grass. The sound of birds. Jamie felt his bare body thump on the grassy field, and could just about make out the house in the distance. But before he could take another step, he fell over and lay still, spiralling into the blackness once more.

It seemed like years passed while at the same time taking no time at all. And then Jamie found himself in another place entirely, walking the gardens of what looked like a fantastical and wondrous palace.

He was no longer wearing makeshift rags, but clad in a rich vest and leggings of an unspecified material and fashion. His hair was expertly made up, the fresh scars that had been carved out of his flesh seemed to have disappeared. Compared to Death's realm which was light and airy, this place was dark, and the air seemed heavy with unspeakable secrets. Pinpoints of light from what looked like stars shimmered down on fountains and hedges and long marble pathways. There was something about the place, something not quite right, but Jamie couldn't put his finger on it.

Something struck him, and he experimentally took hold of his left arm with his right hand, and gave it a hard pinch. It completely failed to hurt. Fascinated, he pinched himself a couple more times, feeling nothing at all.

A loud cough made him look up. To his surprise, it seemed to have come from a large raven, perched on a branch in a nearby tree.

"Are you done playing with yourself?" croaked the raven. Its speech was strange. Although the very idea of a talking raven was absurd in the first place, but it _did _sound strange. It didn't sound like a human voice at all, or like that of a proper raven who at best could only emit sharp calls. It sounded like a raven who had learned to speak English, which was ridiculous. But no less ridiculous than any number of things that had happened to him recently.

"That sounded wrong."

"What else do you call standing around in a garden and pinching yourself? Is this how you get off?"

"It's not...I mean...it doesn't hurt, for some reason."

It should have been impossible for a raven to roll its eyes, but this one did. "Think about it, genius. Where would you be if pinching yourself didn't hurt?"

"I must be dreaming."

"Bit slow on the uptake, aren't you?"

"But if this is a dream, this isn't real. It's probably just a result of the traumatic shock I've received. Any moment now I'll wake up and find myself back in the Sunless Lands."

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that boy."

Jamie frowned. "I don't remember ever having quite so lengthy a conversation in any of my dreams before. Who are you anyway?"

The raven squawked a few times before speaking again. "The name's Matthew."

"Matthew? I don't know anyone named Matthew."

The raven sighed. "That's cause we've never met. I'm not a figment of your subconscious, or whatever ya wanna call it. You're in the Dreaming and -"

"I'm in the _where_?"

"The Dreaming, boy. Didn't she tell you about it?"

"Stop calling me boy, even if you are a damn figment of my imagination. What the hell's the Dreaming?"

"You mean you don't know?"

Jamie had enough. "No!"

The raven looked worried. "Christ, I had no idea it was this bad. You'd better follow me. The boss wants to see you, and he can explain it better than I can."

And with that the raven spread its wings and took to the sky. Feeling utterly bewildered, Jamie followed it, craning his neck upwards to look at the black speck in the starry sky.

It took him along a winding path, snaking in and out of the trees and bushes. Although there was no wind, Jamie didn't seem to sweat or lose his breath. As he walked on he pondered the meaning of the raven's words. It seemed to know who he was. And it did mention 'she'. Maybe it knew who Didi was as well. And maybe he, or the guy he called his 'boss' could help.

Jamie hoped so. He had a feeling he was going to need all the help he could get.

He eventually reached a high mountain pass (_mountains? It was a garden just minutes ago_) with the path winding its way up to a massive castle, that sat upon a peak of rock like a gargoyle big enough to swallow whole islands. It looked exactly like the kind of grim and foreboding fortress Jamie had in mind when he was first imagining what Death's home looked like.

Matthew the Raven flapped onward and flew around in a lazy circle, waiting for Jamie to catch up. But he had paused while looking at the castle's gate, not believing what his eyes were telling him.

Positioned to the left, right and top of the gate were three huge beasts of myth and legend. Jamie had read about them back when he was a kid, but those were pictures in a book, or words on a page. These monsters were _real_. It's the difference between reading a Winnie the Pooh story and running for your life from a wild grizzly bear. The hot breath of the guardians of the gate fogged up in the cool air, as they looked down upon Jamie with a cool intelligence that seemed keener than human.

"Ware the intruder," growled the winged horse. It was theoretically the least threatening of the guardians, in the same way an assault rifle was less threatening than a tank cannon and a nuke. It was at least seven times larger than any horse Jamie had ever seen, who had been a city kid and hardly ever saw a horse in the flesh.

"He does not look to pose a threat," snorted the griffin. It had the lion's body and wicked-looking claws on massive, muscled legs, but the head of a giant eagle. It looked like it could swallow an elephant in a single gulp. Jamie felt it was right not to worry about him.

"Be mindful, brother," hissed the wyvern, a scaly, sinuous, serpent like thing perched on top of the gate. Its eyes burned with unnatural fire as it looked first at Jamie, then at its other companions. "Many strange things seek an audience with our lord cloaked in humble disguises. Be ready."

Jamie felt that he should speak, but the words died in his mouth as he stared up at the guardians, who were all looking straight at him now.

"Settle down everyone," croaked Matthew, still flying overhead. Jamie had forgotten all about him. "The boss wants to talk to this guy himself. That's why he sent me to find him soon as he fell asleep."

_Fell asleep? w_ondered Jamie. But the guardians were already looking less menacing.

"Enter then, stranger," intoned the wyvern. "But be warned, we will be watching your every move within our lord's realm."

It seemed apparent that Jamie should make the next move, so he muttered something unintelligible and quickly walked past the gate and up to the castle, feeling the guardians' eyes on him the whole way.

**The Court of the Dream-King**

**The Dreaming**

"Keep to the path," whispered Matthew.

"Ok."

"I mean it. Last guy who wandered off the path got turned inside out and exploded. And the one before him made a lifelong enemy who looked exactly like him. No one knows what happens if you stray from the path."

"Ok, I heard you the first time."

"Good. Now let's go, I don't want to make the boss wait."

Jamie padded forward on a rich red carpet, unable to stop himself from looking up and all around him. Walls of stone were all around him, stretching upwards higher than he thought possible to support an arched stone ceiling. The place seemed suffused with a strange light that did not come from any readily apparent source. If he strained his ears, he could just about make out the sound of soft music being played somewhere in the distance.

Matthew led him to a pair of golden double doors. At his urging, Jamie pushed them open and Matthew swooped into the room.

"Boss...er, my lord Dream, here is the human dreamer who you wanted to see."

Jamie stepped into the court room with shaking legs and looked for the first time on the Dream-King.

He was tall, far taller than it was possible for any human to be. He was clad in robes of brilliant white, the white of new stars burning in a sea of darkness. His skin was pale white too, and it reminded me sharply of Didi. But his eyes weren't her human ones full of joy and emotion, they were pinpricks of light that shone from his face. He stood up from his throne, and the way he carried himself was full of regal nobility as he walked towards Jamie.

Jamie blinked, one moment the king looked at least twice as tall as him, the next he was about Jamie's height. He looked far less imposing as well. Instead of expecting him to bow or kneel, the king took his hand and shook it, smiling pleasantly.

"Jamie Keane. Associate of my elder sister. Be welcome in my realm of the Dreaming." He sounded like a young man, but at the same time like a man who had been young for a very, very long time.

Jamie nodded dazedly. "Thank you..."

"You may call me Daniel."

Out of the corner of his eye, Jamie saw Matthew ruffle his feathers indignantly, as if irked at such familiarity. Somehow this calmed him down a little.

"Thank you, Daniel. Are you one of Didi's siblings?"

"I am. My role is to maintain the Dreaming, where all sapient life goes when it slumbers. That is where you are now."

"I...see..."

"I needed to meet with you urgently. I understand my sister has been taken."

Daniel's words touched a raw, bleeding part in Jamie that he had tried his best to forget about.

"She was. Please, you need to help me. We need to find her and get her back."

The King of Dreams shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid that is not possible."

"What do you mean?" snapped Jamie. "She's your sister, isn't she? Why aren't you willing to help?"

"There are rules, Jamie Keane," said Daniel. "Rules that not even those such as we can break. My sister knew the rules when she chose to break them. And if I know her, I know she did it for a very good reason."

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about," said Jamie tiredly. He was sick of cryptic clues and standing still. He needed to get moving again, to go rescue Didi.

Instead of answering, Daniel pointed at the ankh, still hung around Jamie's neck. Instinctively, he reached out and clasped his hand over it.

"She gave this to you. She gave it to you when she had never done so before, for untold billions of millennia. Do you remember what she said to you when she did it?"

"That it was her sigil. Her symbol of office," mumbled Jamie. The sense of being on the brink of some ephemeral cliff was on him again. He was heading down a road he wasn't sure he liked.

"So she did. This means that although she is unable to do her job, you must."

"What? I'm the new...Death?"

"That was what you wanted, was it not?" inquired Daniel.

"I...no! I wanted to help her, not take over! Why doesn't anyone care that Didi's gone?"

"Because the universe cares not who does her job. Just that someone is doing it," said Daniel calmly. And Jamie knew with terrible certainty that he was right. Daniel continued talking.

"I have spoken with our elder brother, Destiny -"

"There's more of you?" Jamie muttered, then wished he hadn't.

"Seven all told," said Daniel, not looking the least bit annoyed. "Or more accurately, Destiny came to speak to me. The situation does not look good. If there isn't someone performing the function that my sister used to do, the world will be in utter chaos."

"What are you talking about?"

"Think about it, Jamie Keane. People caught in terrible accidents. People with terminal illnesses. And not being able to die or pass on."

Jamie stared at him, open-mouthed. A world where people couldn't die. It sounded like someone's idea of heaven, but that was before you looked at it closely. Would someone who got squashed by a truck really want to live? Or someone with his head chopped off?

"It's got to be me."

"Yes," said Daniel. "You have to do it, or the problem will not confine itself merely to Earth. It will spread, and reach the rest of the universe eventually. You asked for the responsibility when you volunteered to be my sister's companion, Jamie Keane. You alone have to shoulder it now."

"It's just Jamie, if you don't mind," said Jamie, for want of something to say.

"Jamie. If you wish," said Daniel serenely. "You will remember our conversation when you awaken. Destiny will want to speak to you. Tell him of what we said when you meet."

"Ok," said Jamie, privately wondering whether he'd recognise this fellow called Destiny if he showed up.

"But – and this is important – do not tell him what I'm about to tell you next."

"Ok?" said Jamie, looking puzzled. Daniel gave him a brief smile.

"You see, Destiny and the universe may not care very much about what happens to my sister...but I do. She was present at my – my birth, shall we say. She has been a good friend to me, and a good source of advice and counsel. I would not like her to remain within the grasp of those who mean her harm."

"Exactly! So why can't you do something?"

"Not directly. But whatever I can do, I am doing it now. Seek out a pair of humans, who are living on your planet at this time. Their names are Nobody Owens and Coraline Jones. They might be able to assist you."

"What kind of a name is Nobody? And how can they help?"

"You will find out," said Daniel gently. "And one last thing, my sister the Lady Delirium. She might be able to help as well."

"I thought you guys weren't supposed to get involved."

"Delirium is shall we say, _creative _when it comes to rules," said Daniel. "And I know she cares for our sister, as much as I do."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Thank you. And remember not to breathe a word of this to Destiny...although I suspect he'll know about it anyway."

"Uh, sure."

Daniel smiled.

"And now Jamie Keane...companion to my older sister...it is time for you to wake up."


	10. Jaunt

**Chapter 10 – Jaunt **

**Some time later.**

**The Black Sand Desert**

"Tell me what I need to know," whispered the Eremite, one hand grasping the head of his cane, the other reaching out like a withered claw towards Death.

"All right. You're a sad, obsessed, arrogant old man who has no idea what he's doing," said Didi calmly. She was wearing her casual outfit of black top and black jeans that she had on when she was taken. She could theoretically change them any time she wanted, but she thought the casual look would do for now. Besides, it seemed to piss off her captor, who had expected something a little grander. The Eremite snarled at her answer and turned away in disgust.

Didi sat on her rear in the middle of a massive circle drawn in the sand around her. There was sand as far as the eye could see, a flat, featureless landscape that seemed to go on forever. Unlike the deserts of Earth with their white sand dunes, this sand was black. Black as the volcanic rock that sometimes gets left behind after an eruption. There was no wind overhead to give comfort, no shade from a paradoxically black sun in the white sky. There was just the desert, the circle, and her place in it. And the guards.

There were four of them, each arranged at all four points of the compass, and it was their responsibility to watch her, which they did for hours and hours without fail. They were dressed rather eclectically, with one in combat fatigues and another in black robes that looked like something out of a Harry Potter fan convention. But they were very good guards. Didi had tried to talk to them, and in all the time she had been trapped here they hadn't said a single word to her.

She had lain on the floor of that warehouse, prone and hopeless for the first time in her long, long life, held down by the dark magics of the flame-haired woman in the white suit as she had tried to rescue Jamie from their captivity. She the second oldest thing in the universe and one of the most powerful, but she hadn't anticipated two things. Firstly, the effect it would have on her if she'd shared her role with anyone else like she did with Jamie. And secondly, the lengths that the Eremite was willing to go to enact his plan.

He hadn't only planted a bomb in the stadium scheduled to hold the World Cup final, he had engineered a series of similar terrorist attacks around the globe as well, all set to go off at precisely the same time. The Space Needle tower in Seattle. The main street in Rome. An office building in Chile. A government hall in Lagos. A train station in Uttar Pradesh. A public park in Jakarta. A bar in Adelaide. And countless others.

The Eremite had used bombs, he had used gas, he had used teams of men carrying military grade weapons. He had planned for maximum impact, with no strategic goal other than causing as much mayhem as possible. Creating as much death as possible.

Didi had run from one place to the other, desperately trying to cross over the recently dead while trying to look for Jamie at the same time. As a result she had shown up in Johannesburg scared, confused and panicked, and had lost a second or two of reaction time when Ms Sherman had showed up behind her and attacked.

Two seconds. In that two seconds, she had allowed herself to be taken. And for those two seconds, the Eremite had spilled the blood of thousands and thousands of innocents.

She was Death, and she had seen all the universe had to offer. Usually the gory bits. The bad times. Her brother got to have more fun. She was stuck with the boring, sometimes depressing part of the job. She had adjusted by refusing to make moral judgments. To rise above it all and simply do her job. But the wanton slaughter caused by the Eremite, coupled with the fact he had tried to do this before and failed and it only made him want to try harder sickened her.

He had brought her to this place which wasn't a place at all. It was a parasite universe, or pocket dimension, tethered to Earth and only accessed through a secret location hidden somewhere deep in Scotland. It wasn't part of the greater universe at all, like her realm in the Sunless Lands or her brother's castle in the Dreaming. In this parasite universe the greater laws did not apply, and the Eremite held total power. Didi wondered how long he had taken to create the place, it had to be the slow, continuous efforts of several hundred years worth of work. Maybe he had stolen the power needed from somewhere else.

But it was his, and it was where he had put her. And if that wasn't enough, he had inscribed a magic circle around her and set guards to keep an eye her every move. The guards changed shift frequently, new ones coming in every other day or so. This kept them watchful. And Didi was becoming annoyed at being watched so closely, all the time. Usually she moved through the world with very few people being unable to sense her presence, except for the ones she was focused on.

She sat on the black sand and thought gloomily of the things she missed ever since coming to this place. The rolling hills and grass of her home, and her little cottage in the middle of it. Her garden with its beautiful collection of flowers from across the universe. Her comfortable sofa. Her library. Her kitchen with enough varieties of tea to outlast the lifespan of a civilisation. Her bed with the fluffy pillow and her teddy bear, Cavendish. Her goldfish Slim and Wandsworth, swimming about in their bowl. She hoped Jamie was remembering to feed them.

That made her think of Jamie. His energy, his sincerity, his willingness to watch, listen and learn as she tried to teach him the finer points of life and death and her role in making it happen. The way he really listened to her every word, as if she was the most fascinating thing in the universe. The way he could surprise her with his insights sometimes, even though she had pretty much thought she had seen all there was to see. She missed him, and wanted to see him again.

At least she had managed to save him. She'd caught a glimpse at what the Eremite's team had done to Jamie before she'd arrived, and it didn't looked pretty. Didi flexed her fingers. She was generally pleasant, and slow to anger. In fact she hadn't been angry in a really long time. But remembering the sight of the blood on Jamie's chest made the familiar surge of emotions come back.

When she got out, the Eremite was going to _pay._

Still, she had to admit that for the time being, she was pretty much stuck. She had no way to contact anyone she knew, and even if she could get word to her siblings somehow she wasn't sure if she would. She had always advised her siblings to act independently and think for themselves, after all, and she would hate not to practise what she preached. Also her brother Dream had once spent more than fifty years in a similar situation, and had gotten himself out in the end.

Thinking about that made her think about his time spent in the basement of Aleister Crowley's house. He was still on Earth so the impact of his abandonment was lessened, but it wasn't pretty. People had trouble falling asleep, a wave of strange sleeping cases had swept the planet, and when he finally returned to the Dreaming his stronghold had been damaged almost beyond all recognition. She didn't want something like that to happen to her.

She worried about Jamie. Where was he, and what was he doing? She hoped he was still doing the job like she taught him. Even if she hadn't showed him everything the job entailed, helping as many creatures to cross over as he can was better than nothing. But there was still so much left to do. The conversation she had with every new life that was born. Her job on other planes, realities, dimensions and galaxies. How to clear the decks for a really big job, like the death of a god or a world turtle. She felt a tinge of regret at not trusting him enough to share with him every aspect of her job and her life.

Assuming he was still doing the job, of course. For all she knew Jamie could have said 'the hell with it' and went back to find his girlfriend and ignored all the people who were dying and somehow not yet dead. Part of her wanted to believe she was worrying about nothing...but another part of her couldn't help but suspect the worst.

The Eremite moved closer to her again, taking care not to disrupt the edge of the circle. "I will have your power, Dark One. I have waited for centuries to gain it."

"I've had it longer. Trust me, it's not all it's cracked up to be."

"Enough! If you knew what I know, you would not dare be so flippant."

Death raised an eyebrow, but the Eremite continued talking, apparently in love with the sound of his own voice.

"I had the perfect plan. After you defeated me with ease the last time we met in the city of New York, I knew I had to think bigger. Wider. I started seeking out the lost souls, the ones who needed guidance, and showed them the truths. It was pitifully easy to sway their minds and create the empire I needed."

Didi glanced at her guards, but they didn't seem the least bit concerned at the dismissive tone with which the Eremite was talking about then. They gazed back at her, their stares a little unnerving. The Eremite continued talking.

"Triggering the events that would lead to your appearance was easy. But you did the one thing I never had expected. You took on a companion."

The Eremite smiled an unpleasant smile, revealing a lot of sharp yellow teeth. "For what purpose, I wonder. Who am I to fathom the mind of one of the mighty Endless? Regardless, it made my task much easier. I expected to ensnare that human fool doing your job, blasphemy in the highest. He would have served just as well. Instead I get you – and thus I _know _my purpose and my cause are destined to succeed."

He leaned closer. "In taking you, not only will I fulfil my purpose, but I will also enjoy some small measure of revenge. And I am not as old yet that I would willingly forgo such a pleasure."

Didi felt she needed to cut in, if only to make him shut up for a little while. "What is your plan? Why am I here? There must be something you want with me."

"Oh, Foul One, there is something indeed. By taking you, I have stopped the natural flow of life and death on Earth. Perhaps even the universe. No one can die without my word. And there are those who would offer me ownership of entire planets just to restore someone they know back to life. The effects are already starting to take hold. People are suffering from fatal injuries, accidents and illnesses without dying. I hear some idiot human team in Wales are calling it 'Miracle Day'."

The Eremite paused to chuckle. Didi wished she could reach over and punch him in the face, then realised with mild surprise it really had been a long time since she felt like doing that to anyone.

"A miracle indeed. A miracle for me, perhaps. I will give only those I deem worthy death. And I will give those who richly reward me life. My word will be law in a thousand star systems. Everyone else will have to make do as best they can."

"Very nice indeed," said Didi, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Just one problem. Why the heck would I ever help you?"

"Don't forget Grave Liner, we found your little human friend before. We can find him again," said the Eremite. "And sooner or later, you will have to perform your duty. Even if it is only in the limited amounts I see fit. Because I know you. I know you like no other being before. I have studied you, every scrap of information I can get. And I know that above all, you are a creature of habit. You are dedicated to your job. Not performing it eats away at your very soul...if you do have one. You might refuse at first. And I can wait. I have all the time I need."

The Eremite began to walk away in the direction of the portal that would take him back to Earth.

"We shall meet again when you decide to be a bit more cooperative."

Didi folded her arms and glared at his retreating back. Then she thought about Jamie, and wondered what he was doing at the moment.

**Beledwyne, Somalia**

**Earth**

While large parts of the planet fretted over their bank accounts and their Twitter accounts, a war continued to rage on this small corner of it. Officially classified by the United Nations as a failed state, the superpowers watched and waited and did nothing because there was no monetary or strategic benefit in helping. Jamie had only vaguely heard of the place when he was in school. But as the new Death, he had spent the entire morning there. And as he helped move on a few babies, old people and people dying of diseases in the hospital, he wasn't in the best of moods when he felt himself drawn to a stretch of deserted road outside the town of Beledweyne.

Jamie had been working non-stop ever since Didi had rescued him from the clutches of the mysterious gang in white who had blown up the World Cup final stadium in South Africa. He'd escaped, but Didi had been taken. Jamie mused every day whether her decision to share her job and some of her powers with him had led to her imprisonment, and then wondered whether he would ever be brave enough to hear the answer.

He materialised under the shade of a large tree, and then ducked as a bullet zipped past his ear and buried itself in the wood. Panting heavily, he decided to lie down on the grass and keep very still for a moment.

Would he get hurt from a bullet in his current state? He didn't know, and wasn't eager to find out. The work as a reaper wore him out, and as he went on more and more often he wondered how Didi did it all by herself for billions of years. No sooner had he finished helping one person cross over a strange compulsion settled over him, like a giant glowing arrow burning in his mind, drawing him irresistibly to another place, even if that place was on another continent. And away he went.

So far he'd kept his rounds limited to Earth. He'd reaped the lives of animals as well as humans, but he hadn't done anything about life on other planets, besides that one time on the Dune-like planet. Sometimes he thought it was because Didi hadn't had time to show him how to meet alien races. Other times he wondered if Didi had lied to him, and she was just a minor goddess of death limited to Earth after all, not the universe. But he refused to believe that was the case.

So he had moved on, and on, never pausing, never taking a break, while his mind pulsed with the terrible and certain knowledge of where every living being was at that exact moment. It was almost too much to bear, but he held on. Sometimes he'd have to give up and go back to the Sunless Lands to sleep, exhaustion being too much to overcome. But his dreams were always restless, and sad, dreams of Morgan and his family and a tall pale king with stars for eyes. And every time he woke up, his mind would be overloaded once more with all the deaths that had occurred while he was resting and had not yet attended to.

Jamie knew it couldn't go on forever. But he had no way of contacting either of the people Dream had suggested to find, Nobody Owens and Coraline Jones. So he grimly continued doing the job, and racked his brains trying to think of a way to rescue Didi while moving from one place to the next.

The shooting and loud curses yelled in Arabic seemed to have died down. Jamie risked a peek from between his fingers. The place appeared to be relatively peaceful, where gunshots had dominated a moment earlier.

He stepped onto the road, and slapped his head in frustration when he saw what was there. The two opposing groups of gunmen had all shot each other while he was hiding. There wasn't anyone left alive. As he watched, the shades of those men rose from their bodies and started arguing again.

"HOLD IT!" he yelled, coming closer. The men stopped fighting and looked at him in astonishment.

"Alright thanks to being unbelievably stupid you're all dead now. I'm Death. I've come to cross you over."

"Are you the angel Jibril?" asked one man, his hand in the air.

"No."

"You look like a white man. No, a boy. What are you doing here?" asked another man doubtfully.

"How do we know we're really dead?"

Instead of answering, Jamie pointed to the pile of bodies. This set them off arguing again before Jamie clapped his hands and yelled to make them stop.

"You're all dead, ok? Now hurry up, I need to cross you over and I don't have much time."

"We refuse to believe you. This is some kind of trick."

"Yeah, it's not what we're expecting."

"Well, what were you expecting?" asked Jamie, quite reasonably he felt.

"A beautiful garden!"

"No, a garden is for the ordinary people, we deserve better."

"What? But the Qur'an clearly states that..."

"Wait, we died in battle, doesn't that change anything?"

"Houris? Those are for martyrs, Assad."

"Aren't we supposed to sleep in our graves or something until the Day of Judgment?"

Jamie wanted to leave them to it. But he knew he couldn't.

"GENTLEMEN! You all will find out once I cross you over. Now unless you want to be stuck here as a ghost who can't make anyone see or hear him for all eternity, form an orderly queue and shake my hand!"

"Shake his hand? Is he some kind of hand pervert?"

"Beats me, Sharif."

"This definitely isn't what I had in mind."

Muttering and grumbling, the Somalian men formed a rough line. Jamie grabbed each of their hands in turn. The shades vanished each time, journeying on to whatever awaited them next.

When he was done, peace reigned once more. Jamie blinked, feeling exhaustion wash over him again. Maybe he'd go back to Didi's house and get some shuteye for a little while...

Then another giant arrow dropped into his mind without warning. A little girl in Kiev was about to die of pelvic cancer.

Jamie's shoulders slumped. Being in such close contact with tragedy and suffering and sheer bloody stupidity every moment of his waking hours had eroded much of his usual good temper. But he opened up the portal and moved on to his next destination.

**Fast Eddie's Pub**

**Perth, Australia**

**Earth**

Ricardo Inez finished his beer and politely called for another one. The bartender poured it, then rushed to deal with the loud demands of another patron further down the counter, who looked at least seven feet tall and whose sleeveless shirt showed off arms like tree trunks.

He sipped his beer and idly thought about all the ways he was going to spend his new found windfall. Half a million dollars, all cash, all untraceable, all completely tax-free. In exchange for a simple job that had taken him half a day.

After finishing it, he'd taken his money and caught a plane to Western Australia. He'd been there once when he was a kid on a family vacation and had never stopped thinking about its beaches. After a hard life doing some questionable things, Ricardo felt it was finally time to settle down and enjoy his just rewards.

The big man was making even more noise. Ricardo glanced over. He was obviously drunk out of his mind, but the commotion seemed to be about a woman. She was telling him she wasn't interested in a loud, firm voice but the big man didn't seem to be able to take no for an answer. Ricardo shook his head when he saw another guy step up and complain in a high, shrill voice and get swatted aside as if he were a particularly loud insect. The woman's boyfriend or husband, most probably, and one with more indignation than sense.

The boyfriend or husband stumbled backwards onto a table, upsetting it and causing glasses and plates to fly. That was all it took, and in a very short time a proper brawl had broken out. The woman who had caused all this was standing off to one side, screaming hysterically as her boyfriend disappeared under a pile of bodies and furniture. The big drunk man was lashing out with his fists and feet, not caring who or what he hit. Ricardo quickly finished the rest of his beer and put down the money for it behind the counter. He'd done his share of fighting, and wanted to leave before some idiot ruined his night.

Even when another big bloke barrelled into him and put his arms up, ready for a fight, Ricardo punched him in the solar plexus with the minimum amount of force necessary to put him down, and made his way out of the bar. He headed out into the cool Perth night air, and got into his car, a nice new cherry-red Lexus he had bought with his new windfall. He turned the key in the ignition and prepared to get the heck out of there.

The car wouldn't start. Ricardo frowned. It was a new car, it shouldn't have a problem starting the first time of asking. It wasn't like his old clunker that needed two or three tries...

Something in his finely-honed instincts for danger made him grab the door handle and prepare to leap out of the car. But as he turned towards the window, he was staring down the barrel of a handgun that was pressed against the glass.

A voice from the outside, loud enough to be heard through the window.

"Open up, Mr Inez."

His name. Whoever it was had used his real name. Ricardo's mind raced, desperately searching for options. If his car was working, he could run over his hijacker and take off. But it wasn't for some reason. Dimly, he felt that the best option was to hunker down in the car and do nothing. Having a window between him and a gun sounded much better than having nothing but air between himself and a gun. He thought of his own gun in its shoulder holster, and cursed the car's cramped conditions for not being able to draw it fast enough.

An explosion almost made his heart stop. But his window was still intact. Ricardo realised that it had come from the opposite side. Another person was there, brandishing a gun of his own. And it had just shattered the window.

"Your gun please, Mr Inez."

Ricardo froze, not daring to breathe.

"Your gun. We know you have it. Don't make any fast movements. Just hand it over."

"If I give you my gun, you'll kill me," said Ricardo, forcing the words out.

"If you _don't _give him the gun, I'll kill you," said a voice from the gunman on his side. It was higher. Almost like a woman's.

Moving with exaggerated car, Ricardo removed his gun from its shoulder holster and handed it over, grip first.

"Thank you," said the second gunman. "Now the other gun please."

"What other gun?" said Ricardo. The second gunman sighed.

"The one strapped to your ankle. Yes, we know about that. Please don't waste our time."

Ricardo handed over that gun too, feeling icy fingers of fear run down his spine. No one ever knew about the second gun he had. Who were these people? What did they want with him? He tried to place their voice and accents, but other than being vaguely British he was too panicked to think clearly.

"Get out of the car," said the first gunman, who turned out to be a woman like he suspected. Ricardo did, not daring to look directly at their faces. The two of them bundled him into a van, and away they went.

Ricardo strained and strained against the plastic cuffs his abductors had slapped on him, to no avail. They were quick, professional, and knew what they were doing. This made the sweat trickle down his temples, because the number of people who he thought was capable of kidnapping him made a very short list.

The van stopped. The doors were thrown open, and Ricardo caught a glimpse of the outside. It was mostly dark, with the only light coming from the moon. They were no longer in the city, and there didn't seem to be any buildings around. Just the scruffy bush you find when traveling off the road in Australia.

His kidnappers frog-marched him a little distance away until they reached a large tree. He would have tried to make a break for it had it not been for the gun barrel pressed against his neck the entire time. The woman quickly and efficiently tied him to the tree using a length of cord, the same type that mountain climbers used to tether themselves together. They were impossible to fray, unlike a normal rope.

She stood up when she was done, and Ricardo recognised her immediately.

"You! You're the woman at the bar!"

She grinned. She had dark hair, was a little on the short side, and slim. She was wearing a button up black coat, and her smile was that of a shark's. "We know you noticed. We had to be sure, you see."

"Sure of what?"

"We had to be sure that you were indeed the Ricardo Inez we're looking for," said the man, stepping forward. With a sinking feeling, Ricardo recognised him too. He was the one he tagged for the woman's boyfriend, the weak-looking blond man who had gone down in the fight like a toy doll being kicked over. He didn't seem the worse for wear, however.

"It was a set-up. It was all a set-up."

"Mm," agreed the woman. "We were pretty sure when you didn't get involved in the fight, then absolutely certain once you took down that poor man with one punch. That's your style, isn't it? Not looking for a fight, but willing to put someone down when needed. Like say for example, someone paying you half a million dollars to do a little job in Budapest."

Ricardo's eyes bugged out in his head. He had made sure, he knew he had covered all his tracks and killed everyone who had seen him plant the gas canisters in the train station's ventilation shafts and orchestrate the attack on the emergency services that arrived later. Close to a thousand people died that day, one of the worst terrorist attacks in Hungary's history, men, women and children all dying before they knew what was happening. He had done the job, taken the money and fled as far as he thought was necessary.

Apparently it wasn't far enough.

"Here's what's going to happen," said the woman, with a new edge to her voice. "You will tell us who hired you. In return, we won't kill you."

"I don't know what you're talking about, you've got the wrong guy," babbled Ricardo desperately.

"Please Mr Inez," said the man with a sigh. "We know all about you. We know you were dishonourably discharged from the Brazilian National Public Security Force twelve years ago for murdering a suspect while in custody and you've worked as a mercenary ever since. We know about that job you did in Hong Kong, and the other one in Namibia. You're quite the globetrotter, aren't you?"

Ricardo tried to find a comeback, but he couldn't. The man's words dredged up old memories, memories he'd sworn never to touch again. Amazingly, he felt a tear roll down his eye. He was so close, so _close _to enjoying his retirement. And now these two were taking it away.

"Remorse is good, Mr Inez."

"I don't think that's remorse, dear," said the woman. "I haven't had an answer to my question. Tell me or I'll shoot."

"If I tell you, I'm a dead man," whispered Ricardo. "The people who hired me...they're not people you take lightly."

"Let me put it this way," said the woman. "Either you tell me and get a chance to live a little longer, or make me angry and you die here, right now."

"Just shoot me," murmured Ricardo. "I'd prefer a quick death."

The woman shot the man an exasperated look. He nodded, and she turned back to Ricardo.

"What makes you think I'm giving you a quick death? I don't have to shoot you. I can cut out your tongue and leave you tied to this tree. You won't be able to call for help, and absolutely nobody comes out this way. You know how empty the Bush is. How long do you think you can go without food and water before your mind cracks?"

Ricardo felt his bowels give way. The woman was serious.

"We don't have to resort to such cruelty, honey," said the man in an admonishing tone.

Ricardo looked at him, not daring to hope.

"I have a roll of tape, we can just tape his mouth over instead. He still won't be able to call for help, but we don't need to cut out his tongue."

That was the final straw. Ricardo broke down.

"Please...please don't leave me here to die. I'll tell you who hired me. Please..."

The woman gave him a friendly smile. "Now that's more like it, Ricky boy."

Ricardo spilled his guts, telling them everything he knew. When he was finished, the two crazed gunmen exchanged an indecipherable look. Then they both turned and walked away at the same time. Ricardo stared at their backs, not believing his eyes.

"Hey! Hey, you said you'd let me go! Come back!"

"We said no such thing," said the woman nonchalantly, one hand in the air. "See you around, Ricky."

"WAIT! COME BACK, DON'T LEAVE ME HERE TO DIE! COME BAAAAACCCKKK!"

But no one answered him, not even a bird. The bushland was empty.

Later when they were driving away, Bod glanced at Coraline. She had wound down the window and was enjoying the night breeze with every sign of enjoyment. If he strained his ears, he could make out the faint echoes of a scream on the wind.

"Nice performance you put on there in the pub," he said.

"Thanks dear," she replied with a smile. "Haven't had the chance to make use of my acting talents recently."

"Uh..."

"Out with it, Owens."

"You weren't really going to cut out his tongue and leave him there, were you?"

Coraline shrugged. "Maybe. If he didn't want to cooperate. You know his type, you need to speak their language if you're gonna get anywhere."

Bod bit his lip. Coraline cracked up in laughter.

"Look at your face! Of course I wasn't going to really do it darling, don't be silly."

"Should we have told him we were going to contact the police and tell them where they could pick up a notorious mass-murdering terrorist wanted by Interpol?"

"Nah, I wanted to make him sweat a little."

"Good thinking."

"Thank you. Were you hurt in that little bar fight by the way?"

"Not at all. I went ghost almost soon as it started. No one noticed."

"That's good," said Coraline. She reached for her husband's hand and held it tight. Then she spoke up again, in a quieter voice this time.

"It's worse than we thought. Than we feared."

"I know."

"I thought it was just the thing in Johannesburg, but it's all over the world. Something's behind this, Bod. I can feel it."

"I agree. Have you heard anything strange recently?"

"What, stranger than things already are?"

"No, it's just that I've been hearing certain rumours. Of the dead rising from their graves, headless men walking about, that sort of thing. People refusing to die."

"That sounds ridiculous."

"I don't know. I've been hearing it too many times. I think they're related."

"Alright. We'll find out. We have to do something."

"Yes we do. And we'll do it together," said Bod, looking at his wife and loving her more in that moment. She was so angry, so furious at the mass murders being carried out in a systematic fashion across the world. Instead of doing nothing, she resolved to do something about it.

Coraline smiled. "Together," she said.

**Hawthorden Castle**

**Midlothian, Scotland**

**Earth**

The Eremite fumed silently. He sat in a long, low room made out of ancient grey stone, with a fire crackling in a grate on the far wall. Silent guards stood at the door, but he was otherwise alone.

He had moved the bulk of his operations from America to his stronghold here in Scotland following his success in capturing Death. He owned the castle, and the land around it, having obtained it through nefarious means. The place suited him, far more than New York City did. It was remote and hidden, surrounded by thick forests, easily defensible and near the legendary Roslin Castle, a source of immense magical energy. It was here he had begun the creation of his parasite universe, accessible only through a single entrance hidden deep beneath the castle's foundations. If anyone wanted to get to Death, they would have to go through his own private army first.

Something was missing. Something he had overlooked. Some people were suffering from injuries that should have killed them, and yet they were not dying. The mainstream media was slow to report on it, but it was there all the same. By rights things should be going according to plan.

But not everyone remained alive. There were still naturally occurring deaths. How many, and in what ratio he had yet to find out, but the crux of the matter was that there were still people who were dying in the normal way. This galled the Eremite. The chaos he expected to form was moving too slowly. By now he had anticipated an entire world caught up in the utter terror of people who wanted to die but couldn't, of the dead rising in their graves. But it wasn't happening yet.

The Eremite looked at one of the guards by the door. "Bring me a test subject," he said softly. The guard bowed, and left. He returned a while later, dragging a young woman in tow. She was wearing a fine dress that was rumpled and smeared with dirt. Her long hair was one huge tangle, and her eyes were wild.

"Please let me go," she sobbed, her knees trembling as she swayed on the spot. "Please, I won't tell anyone what happened, I won't tell them about this place. Please, just let me go."

"Weapon," requested the Eremite, observing the girl with a slightly detached air. The guard handed over his gun to the Eremite, who aimed and shot the girl directly in the center of her head. She crumpled to the floor, the back of her head blown out in messy chunks. Blood and brain matter spattered everywhere, over the guard's uniform and the centuries-old furniture.

The Eremite bent over the prone figure. She should be dead, and yet...

Her chest was still rising and falling. Her eyes were wide and staring sightlessly at unspeakable horrors. Her mouth open and shut slowly, while her limbs jerked around. She should be dead. She wasn't. It seemed like his plan had worked after all. Still, better to make sure.

"Take the test subject back to her cell, but keep her under constant observation. The moment she dies, I want to know."

The guard bowed and did as he was asked, lifting the not-quite corpse in his arms and leaving the room. The Eremite returned to his inscrutable thoughts, brooding as the day wore on and the light waned outside his windows.

It was a few days later before he received the call. The girl had finally died, but not before remaining in her cell in that same half-corpse state without speaking a word or responding to anything.

"Did anyone see what happened to her?"

The guard who was on duty stepped forward and saluted. "I did, Teacher. She sort of gurgled and then stopped breathing."

"Did you see anything else?"

"Not really, I -"

"_Did you see anything else?_"

"No, Teacher," said the guard, in a hushed tone.

Instead of replying, he stormed off towards the dungeons. He had to get the truth from that insufferable woman.

**The Black Sand Desert**

"So recently I've been listening to Metric, and I really like it, I think it's a shame there aren't more female singers in bands and she's really got a great voice. Did you see them in New York that one time? Brilliant," said Didi happily, lying on her back as if soaking up rays at the beach.

Her guards refused to answer, or even acknowledge that they heard anything. Didi continued talking however. It helped to pass the time. Currently she was on the topic of music that she liked, and that would take up several centuries at least.

A shout from the distance interrupted her. "Dark One! I will have words with you!"

Didi sat up. "Hello there you old coot," she greeted him cheerily. "Come to set me free?"

The Eremite glared at her. "How is this possible? We took you, bound you, trapped you here, and life and death goes on as usual in the wider world. What did you do?"

Didi started to speak, then stopped. Why tell the Eremite anything at all?

"I don't really know," she lied.

"Tell me!"

"Or what?" she retorted. "You'll kidnap me? Did that already."

"There's always torture to loosen your tongue," snarled the Eremite.

"Torture? Physical pain?" said Didi incredulously. "I may be trapped but I'm not utterly helpless, you know. Just listen to how ridiculous you sound right now."

"Unless...but no. How could one idiot human do the job? Do your job?" said the Eremite suspiciously. Didi felt her heart sink. He had guessed it after all.

"You did that? You shared your responsibilities with...with _him_? Foulest of blasphemies!"

"And what you're doing is so gosh darn pure and noble I suppose," said Didi sarcastically.

"We will find him, you know," said the Eremite, his voice rising. "We will find that companion of yours and drag him here, broken and bleeding and wishing he was dead. And then we'll see how long the world lasts without a reaper!"

Didi watched him go, but she felt better than she had in a long while. Jamie was out there. He was doing the job she taught him, as best he knew how. And he had escaped capture so far. He could be on his way trying to find her right now.

_Hurry up Jamie. I can't wait to see you, _she thought to herself, then lay back down on the sand once more.


	11. Chasing Ghosts

**Death Chapter 11 – Chasing Ghosts**

Around the world, people were beginning to realise that somehow, the finality of death was no longer as certain as it once was. Although the aftermath of the terror attacks still dominated the headlines and news cycles, bit by bit disturbing reports began to surface.

**Wolf Blitzer, CNN:** "We've been receiving word that across the country, hospitals in at least thirty two different states have reported that patients involved in seemingly fatal accident cases that would have logically resulted in death remained alive for long hours, sometimes even days before mercifully passing on. In the interim, many doctors and nurses reported that the patients were responsive to conversation and other stimuli, although some were in such agony they could do nothing but scream until their vocal chords broke down permanently."

**Jeremy Paxman, BBC World News:** "A man fell out of a thirty storey building in Leeds yesterday – and lived to tell the tale. Other strange cases of 'divine providence' have been reported all over the United Kingdom within the last week. A spokesman from the government run Torchwood Institute could not be reached for comment regarding this so-called 'Miracle Day'."

**Genevieve Woo, Channel NewsAsia:** "We can confirm that the strange rumours of alleged increased supernatural activity are at least partially true. Earlier this morning a woman who was crossing a Malaysian train track was cut in half, but miraculously did not die. A passer-by captured a video of the incident. Be warned, the images we're about to show are extremely graphic."

**The Lone Voice of Truth, : **"IT'S THE WATER! THAT'S HOW THEY GET YOU! WAKE UP PEOPLE, DON'T DRINK ANYTHING FROM YOUR TAP! THE GOVERNMENT WANTS TO TURN US ALL INTO ZOMBIES AND USE US AS SLAVES FOREVER!"

**Father Mario Genovese, representative of the Vatican: **"The Holy Father appeals for calm while we ascertain the true nature of these rumours. Only God almighty may grant eternal life, and the apparent mockery of the dead is a terrible sin."

**Reverend Jimmy Greaves, Televangelist: **"It's the End Times, oh Lord yes! Hellfire and brimstone shall rain down upon the heads of those who have yet to be saved! The dead walking the streets, the faithful speaking in tongues, sin and depravity everywhere you look, Judgment Day will soon dawn upon us all! Call my special toll-free number and dial 555-6752-1950 and pledge $50, and I shall say an extra little prayer for you, oh Lord yes I will. Remember folks, just a General Grant for eternal peace in the Kingdom of Heaven!

**Dr Everett Canton Jr., Biologist, interview from MSNBC: **"Well it's not exactly the stuff of Romero movies, but certain chemical reactions may make it appear that a body is moving even though by all medical standards it is already clinically dead -"

_(Interviewer _**_Thomas Roberts _**_cuts in at this point) _"But Dr Canton, surely you've seen some of the videos that are on YouTube right now. There's one with 13 million hits, of a gangster shot three times directly in the chest, who got up and continued to walk. How do you explain that?"

"The human body is a complex and complicated piece of machinery, Thomas, and I'm not ashamed to admit that even modern science does not have a hundred per cent knowledge of all its capabilities."

**Major Chen Zicai, secret report to People's Liberation Army****Headquarters: **"The situation in Guangdong is worse than we first thought. We have it under control for now, but barely. I am formally requesting for two additional battalions of men plus an armored unit to keep this so called rising of the dead in check. If word got out it would cause irreparable damage to investor confidence in our markets."

**Jon Stewart, The Daily Show: **"Hi it's Jon Stewart and welcome to the Daily Show! Listen people – zombies. Are. Done! We got over them around the time that movie with Brad Pitt tanked at the box office. When the Miami guy ate a face I thought, hey, maybe he was just hungry. What? Stranger things have happened in Florida. When that Jersey guy threw his own intestines at a buncha cops I was like, hey, it's JERSEY. Five minutes in Jersey, and I'd be looking to pull my own guts out as well. But now they're everywhere? Listen up Hollywood, whatever crappy marketing campaign you're running, it ain't gonna work!"

(_Audience laughs_)

**La Tremoille Hotel**

**Paris, France**

**Earth**

"Well it looks like you were right," said Coraline, sifting through a pile of papers and cross-referencing them with her Internet links. Her webpage currently held fifty-one different tabs. She was working on her laptop at the little hotel table, while Bod was lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling with a worried expression on his face. He'd been like that for the past few hours, and even all throughout their excellent dinner he had been somewhat preoccupied.

"Hmm?"

"I said, you were right," said Coraline. Bod didn't reply. Usually he'd make some remark about how rare it was getting her to agree with him on anything, but tonight he didn't look to be in the mood for their usual banter. Coraline's spirits fell when she saw fine lines around his eyes and on his forehead that hadn't been there before all this began. Bod was cheerful and gregarious and always had a kind word for anyone they met, unlike her own quiet, brooding nature. He was the one who always had in mind another sight to see, another place to explore, another activity for them to enjoy together. They had been married for several years now, had traveled the world and been in some very bizarre situations, but Bod had never been as despondent as he was now.

Coraline closed her laptop and slid into bed beside Bod, snuggling close to him. He began stroking her hair, almost without thinking, although he was still staring up at the ceiling. She laid a hand on his chest, feeling his warmth, loving the closeness of his body to hers.

"Bod, tell me what's wrong."

"I don't know, Cor. All the news about the dead waking...it isn't _right. _The living should be allowed to rest in peace. So do the dead. They shouldn't be forced to walk around in terrible pain for someone's evil little scheme."

"I know, I know," whispered Coraline, gently rubbing his cheek with one finger. "But we have to stay strong. We have to put a stop to this, and to do that we need to be focused."

"My parents...my friends in my home graveyard. What's happening to them?"

"I'm sure they're fine. This thing only seems to affect the recently dead. I've been collating all the figures together. I don't have anything solid right now...but there is a pattern. It's like feeling your way in the dark. It's hard to see, but it's there. Just give me a bit more time. I'll find out something we can use."

"I'm sure you will. I just hope we aren't too late," said Bod. He was silent for a while, and Coraline didn't say anything, content to just lie by his side. Bod's next words sounded distant, as if he were deep in some long forgotten memory.

"I met her, you know."

"Met who, darling?"

"Lady Death. At least, I think it was her. The other ghosts only referred to her as the Lady in Grey. But I think it was her. She rode a horse, a huge thing, bigger than cities, stronger than mountains. And yet he was small enough to lick my hand when I petted him."

"You never told me this."

"I don't remember it clearly. I was so young back then. And after it was all over, the other ghosts refused to talk about it. They pretended that it didn't even happen. But I do remember one thing. I danced with her, on that night. We danced the Macabray."

Bod began to hum quietly to himself, then sang a few words in a slow yet sweet tune.

"_Step and turn, and walk and sway,_

_Now we dance the Macabray._

_Now the Lady on the Grey,_

_Leads us in the Macabray."_

"That's beautiful."

"It is. It was. And you should have seen her Cor, you should have seen her dance with us, like some grand high queen out of oldest legend one moment, and yet like a girl of sixteen summers, fresh-faced and merry the next. She was old and she was wise and she was kind, and when I was a baby she beseeched the Graveyard folk to take me in and keep me safe. I owe her, Cor. I owe her a debt."

Coraline was listening with rapt attention. Bod's voice was low and full of emotion, and she saw tears welling up in his eyes as he recalled his childhood. She leaned over and gave him a kiss, long and slow and deep, taking her time and making sure to get it right.

"I'll help you, Bod. I love you and I want to help you. We'll get this done. I promise."

"I love you too Cor," he said, his arms wrapping her up in an embrace. She kissed him again, and his hands slid down past her waist, and they made love, taking it slow, Bod moving slowly, precisely, making Coraline gasp and moan with every shuddering stroke. He began to breathe a little more heavily while her nails dug into his back, trying not to draw blood like the last time, his hand slipping down to her breasts and caressing a nipple, feeling it harden and rise, and Coraline forgot all about her mission and her troubles and the sheer scale of the task that lay before them and focused with intensity on the melding of her body with his and the immense waves of pleasure that were crashing over her, over and over again until she became aware that her mouth was open wide and she was screaming, urging, pleading for him to move faster and faster and that she couldn't take it any longer, she really couldn't, and her words gave way to a long loud guttural incoherent moan as Bod jerked and gasped and spent himself deep within her, and Coraline clutched her husband tight, not wanting to let go, never wanting him to ever leave her side.

When they were done, Coraline brushed the hair out of her eyes and gave Bod one last little kiss on the nose.

"Go to sleep Bod. Get some rest, we'll make new plans in the morning."

Bod smiled, and closed his eyes. Soon he was asleep, his breathing peaceful. Coraline looked at him for a little while, wishing that he would never change, that he would stay her Bod forever. Then she sighed and got up, and made herself a cup of mint tea from with the hotel room's kettle. She loved the sensation of her feet sinking into the thick, plush carpet and the other amenities their luxury hotel room afforded. It cost several hundred Euros a night, and Coraline believed it was money well spent.

It hadn't always been like this, their lives together. There were times where they had to crash at a friend's place because they literally had only six pounds between the two of them, trying to get some sleep on a ragged couch while Bod made do with a rug and a bit of floor. He'd smile and say it was nothing compared to sleeping in a tomb, and Coraline knew he wasn't joking. She'd curl up on the couch and stare at the shadows, vainly trying to block out the sounds of traffic, dog barks and the random assorted muggings and murders outside the window, listening to Bod snore away quietly.

Meals were whatever they could buy with a handful of coins. She didn't eat much and Bod was used to eating strange things, but there were times when she drifted off to sleep dreaming of being able to just sit down and eat a simple bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich. Crisp bacon, white bread and fresh vegetables with a smidge of mayo. TV and the Internet, a car? A mere dream. It was years before they could stop worrying about whether or not they were going to starve to death or get evicted.

But even in those darkest moments, Coraline never remembered being truly unhappy, not with Bod around. He always knew the right word to say to make her feel better when she was struggling with a pile of bills. And she never said anything that would hurt him as he tried out one career after another, facing setback after setback. Somehow, deep down inside she knew a modern 21st century, run-of-the-mill life wasn't in the cards for the pair of them.

She knew everything about the skills he learned as a child and he knew all about her slightly abnormal history, and they both agreed it should be put to better use. They both wanted to help people, so they set up their own private firm handling investigations, manhunts, wetwork and protection. As Bod so often said, there was no more marketable skill than keeping someone alive who doesn't want to be dead, as well as finding answers to questions asked by some very rich people indeed. Besides, he got to travel and see the world, which was important to him.

Coraline learned a few things on her own, some through intense study and training and others through first-hand experience. Nowadays she now could tap a phone and exorcise a ghoul with ease, but when she was just starting out there were very few people willing to tutor her in ancient Assyrian or show her just where the medulla oblongata was. As they got more successful they made sure to keep their profiles low, and take on less cases per year. However, both Bod and Coraline made it a point to work _pro bono _for some people who really needed the help. Tracking down a lost child and returning her to her grateful parents. Defending a young wife from her abusive husband. Even something as trivial as giving a man the money he needed to get the bank off his back. Charity came in varied forms.

They were wealthy and doing important, necessary work, and Coraline had learned how to appreciate everything they had earned together, all the perks and comforts and little luxuries. But she also believed very strongly in doing the right thing, and finding out who was behind the string of atrocities was the least she could do.

Coraline typed away at her computer, drinking her tea, seeking out the connections and the trail that would lead them to the smoking gun and the blood-stained hand as the night wore on and the Paris sky outside her window grew brighter and brighter.

**Amboseli National Park**

**Kenya, Africa**

**Earth**

Where was Delirium? Daniel, the Lord of Dreams had come to Jamie while he slept and advised him to seek his sister, the Lady Delirium if he had any hope of rescuing Death. Jamie racked his brains trying to think of a way to contact Del, whom he had only run into before one time by accident. From what he knew, it didn't seem like an easy task. The Endless apparently roamed the length and breadth of the universe as they wished, although they tended to favour areas associated with their particular domain. Jamie supposed he could go and sit in an insane asylum until Del showed up, but something told him it would be a fruitless endeavour.

Meanwhile there was the Duty. Jamie was running on less and less sleep from day to day, but instead of making him more relieved it was weighing heavily on his mind. A reduced need for sleep wasn't the only thing that Jamie had noticed changing about him. The undefinable sense in his mind that pointed to the exact location of every living thing in the universe was growing stronger every day. So was his connection to the world around him. He could almost feel every grain of sand if he walked on a beach, every drop of water in a storm-tossed sea. He was aware of the moon overhead and the stars in the sky on a level he had never before experienced as a human.

It was growing difficult to remember what life had been like as a human. Somedays he remembered it very clearly, his mother, father and brothers, sitting in a classroom bored out of his mind, challenging Morgan to ridiculous dancing arcade games and losing each time. He remembered having only five senses with which to perceive the world, sleeping a third of each day away, having to eat and drink and all the rest.

On the other days...he would cross over lives, one after another, without pause, with hardly a word to the recently dead. He had a feeling Didi wouldn't have done it that way, but he was scared of falling behind on the job. It only occurred to him later that he should have worried of the effects of the job on him.

Part of him wanted to reject it. All that power and all that responsibility was too much for any sane individual to bear. But another part of him, the part that had slowly awakened under Didi's gentle coaching wanted more. It was that side of Jamie who had always wanted more out of life, to experience everything there could possibly be. Knowing he could cross galaxies, wield the power of death, meet every living being in the universe...the thought of having such power forever gave rise to a small but persistent voice that constantly asked for more.

Kenya was calling, and he could not resist any longer. There was an unlucky wildebeest being savaged by a crocodile, and Jamie watched as the crocodile snapped its jaws, making the river run red. He helped the snorting, panting, panic-stricken animal cross over, and then wandered off some distance to stop and think.

Jamie sat down on a convenient rock and stared out at the grassy plain before him. It reminded him of Death's Domain, but unlike her realm this place was teeming with life. Insects buzzed around his feet, herds of wild antelope grazed in the distance, nervously looking around every few seconds or so to watch out for a big cat. Life and death, played out before his eyes.

His mind began filling up with a sudden strong urge to be elsewhere. A family of four had died from a gas leak in Shenzhen. A young girl overdosed on pills in Oslo. An old lady dying in her bed in Nottingham. A fisherman drowning in the Pacific Northwest. An ant being torn apart by a group of other ants three metres away from him. It all rose up in his mind, clamouring for his attention. The screams of the dying and the pain of the not yet dead. Save me, save me, save _me_...

Jamie buried his face in his hands, trying to ignore it all, pushing everything out of his mind to try and get a moment to concentrate. Deep in his heart he knew that what he was doing was the equivalent of plugging a leak in the Hoover Dam with his finger while cracks were beginning to form elsewhere and other leaks were starting to burst through. He couldn't keep this up forever. He'd go mad. Or he'd give himself over to the Duty entirely, and turn into someone else altogether. He had to get Didi back.

"I wish she was here right now," he mumbled, his voice muffled by his palm.

"...here right now he mumbled, his voice muffled by his palm. The human named James Franklin Keane then looked up in shock because he had not seen another person around and the voice was unlike any human one he had ever heard before. He looked upon a tall, grim figure, clad in a brown robe with a cowl, carrying a book which is attached to one wrist by a length of chain. The book is also unlike anything James had ever seen before, a massive tome full of dusty old pages, the cover unmarked by any word or symbol and bound in some unidentifiable material. Recalling the words he shared with the Dream King some time ago, James realised with dawning horror that the person standing in front of him could only be Destiny of the Endless," recited Destiny without stopping, reading from his book.

He paused, and looked at Jamie with his cloudy-white eyes. "For that is who I am. Destiny, eldest of the Endless."

The old man had appeared out of nowhere, and had read his thoughts while he was thinking them from the book he held. Like Dream, he was taller than any human ought to be, dwarfing the baobab tree beside him. Despite the full strength of the African sun behind him Destiny cast no shadow, and he left no footprints on the mud of the riverbank. His robes smelled like the air inside long-forgotten libraries, and although he seemed blind his eyes held Jamie's own with ease. His face seemed wrinkled and ancient, but his skin was more akin to that of a human, instead of the pure white of Didi and her other siblings. Jamie literally could not think of anything to say.

Destiny did not appear perturbed by his lack of response. "I have come to you, James Keane because you have irrevocably altered certain events in the history of this universe, the ramifications of which are adding new pages and entire indexes to my book every day."

"You've come to yell at me?" said Jamie weakly.

"I never yell," said Destiny. "I have information for you."

"Can you help me find Delirium? I – uh – need to speak to her."

"It pertains to your current role as the reaper of life," said Destiny, ignoring him.

"But I'm not the reaper, I'm just sort of filling in until Didi gets back..."

"My sister gave you her sigil," said Destiny. "She gave you her power. You will do her job."

Destiny spoke in a flat tone without inflection, stating things in a calm and matter-of-fact manner. His entire presence seemed to suggest that he knew what was going to happen anyway, so just shut up and do as he said because he knew better than everyone else.

He had lived for billions of years compared to Jamie's mere handful, but Jamie had already developed a strong aversion to simply doing as he was told.

"I'm trying to get her back. Don't you care what happens to her? Do you even know what happened to her?"

"Certainly."

"Then...can you tell me what happens next? How can I rescue her?"

Destiny remained silent, implacable as a sheer ice wall.

"Can't you tell me something _useful _from that big book of yours?"

"No."

"You might as well be carrying around a copy of _Twilight_ then," muttered Jamie. "Is that all you have to say?"

"No. It is your destiny. You will become the new reaper of lives."

"And what if I refuse?"

Destiny remained silent, as if Jamie's decision didn't really matter much in the grand scheme of things. But that was wrong, wasn't it? Didn't he say at the beginning that Jamie's actions were adding new pages to his book, changing history? If what was written down could be changed, then there was a chance that Didi might be saved. And if there was even the slightest chance that Didi could be saved...he was going to take it.

All that passed through Jamie's mind in a flash, and he got off his rock, resolute.

"Then I refuse. I'm going to get Didi back, one way or another. And nothing you can say will change my mind."

"I know," said Destiny simply. And without another word, he vanished. Jamie watched a herd of elephants stroll by in the distance, thinking hard. The clamour of the dead grew stronger and more insistent in his mind, and he couldn't put it off any longer.

**Death's Domain**

**The Sunless Lands**

Jamie took a deep breath, feeling the clean air rush into his lungs, enjoying the peace and quiet in Death's realm. Here the voices were a bit more silent, if not completely deadened. It had been a long, hard day, filled with more violent deaths than usual. Jamie had worked fast, barely speaking a word to those who had died as he dealt with one death after another. He had went for speed over precision, anything to lessen the clamour in his head. Before he cracked completely and had gone running around naked in the streets of downtown L.A., he'd decided to go back home for a rest. The Earth would just have to do without him for a while.

Judging by the light, it was somewhen between late afternoon and dusk. Jamie opened the door and headed to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea, leaving his shoes outside. He opened the cabinet and selected a box at random, then boiled water in an electric kettle. Where did the electricity come from? He didn't know, and the only person who did was somewhere else.

He took his strong cup of jasmine orange and went over to the living room to sit down on the long couch. He shook a few fish flakes into Slim and Wandsworth's bowl while he waited for his tea to cool. The two goldfish swam to the top of the bowl, gobbling down the fishy treats with surprising enthusiasm. Jamie took a sip of tea and closed his eyes, leaning back on the couch. He felt the exhaustion and stress draining out of his body, and he knew he would doze off in about a second or two. Maybe an hour's nap, and then he could think of a plan to rescue Didi.

The next thing he knew, there was a flashing light that shone brightly against his closed eyelids. Groggy, Jamie struggled to sit up. He had drifted off to sleep, with one leg thrown over the back of the couch and his back on the floor. His cup of tea was on the coffee table, the dregs now cold. The sky had grown dark. Slim and Wandsworth swum around in their bowl as they always had.

Jamie rubbed his eyes and looked at the flashing light that painted the walls of the house in an eerie silver glow. He had never seen anything like it before, and Didi hadn't told him about it. Jamie followed the light to its source. It was coming from the basement, the light pouring from under a door he had not opened before. He wondered whether it was dangerous to go in.

Then incredibly, he heard a familiar voice coming from the other side of the door.

"Sis? Big sis! It's me, Delirium. I'm doing this properly this time, like the time I wanted to talk to Dream only now he's dead but not really and he's got a new name now. I'm uh, standing in my gallery only it was the deck of an aircraft carrier two seconds ago and it'll probably be a mountain of cotton candy in a while but for now it's my gallery and that's the important bit, I'm standing in my gallery and holding your sigil thingy. You know, the thing that looks like a cross but with a round bit at the top. And now you have to talk to me. Please?"

Jamie pushed open the door and went in. It turned out to be a long low-ceilinged room, with a group of seven paintings arranged in a line on one wall. On closer inspection, they weren't paintings at all but seven artifacts each surrounded by a frame. There was a book with a chain, a silver ankh which he recognised as the larger twin of the one he wore around his neck. Something that looked like a bizarre mask carved out of bone. A weathered sword, pitted and marked with rust. A large crystal heart, and a tiny ring with a hook on top. And the last, a confusing swirl of colours and butterflies. It was this last thing that was pulsing with silver light. It was from this frame that Delirium's voice was emanating from.

"Del? Is that you?"

"You're not my big sister. Who are you?"

"It's me Jamie, don't you remember? We had ice cream once."

"Jamie? What are you doing there? Where's my big sis?"

"It's a long story Del, but is there some way you could get over here? I need to talk to you."

"Of course there is."

Jamie waited. Nothing happened.

"Uh Del, could you use that way to come here then?"

"Oh, ok. If you really wanna."

"I do."

There was a final flash of light, and Delirium was standing in Death's gallery. Her hair was still rainbow coloured and looked like it could use a good wash, but at least it was growing all over her head this time. She was wearing a big black coat, cutoff jean shorts, a ragged _My Little Pony _t-shirt and a large straw summer hat. Her eyes, one green and one blue, focused with some effort on Jamie.

"Hello."

"Del, I am so glad to see you! You don't know how long I've been trying to get in touch with you."

Del blinked in surprise. "If you wanted to talk why didn't you come to the gallery?"

"I...er...what?"

"The gallery. Which is what this place is. My big sister's gallery. She uses it to talk to us when she wants to or when she's mad and wants to yell at us, which is actually pretty scary if it happens to you but she hasn't done that in a million billion years so I guess that's ok. Why didn't you call me?"

"No one told me I could use this to call you!"

"Well I'm here now," said Del, skipping merrily up the stairs. Jamie blinked, then considered hitting his head against the wall, hard. Instead he decided to go upstairs before Del wrecked the place.

She was lying lengthwise on the couch, watching Slim and Wandsworth with childlike delight. The two goldfish seemed to recognise her, and drifted over to her side of the glass bowl. Jamie sat down on a spare armchair and tried to arrange his thoughts in a coherent fashion. But the sheer exasperation at realising he could have called Delirium anytime he wanted instead of searching everywhere for her still rattled him.

"Where's my big sis anyway? Is she at work?"

"Del...haven't you heard?"

"Heard what?"

That snapped Jamie out of his daze. He told Delirium everything that had happened. Death's capture, his meeting with Dream, struggling with the demands of the job, and Destiny's warning. Amazingly enough, Delirium didn't wander off or start singing or hopping around. She listened wide-eyed as Jamie got everything off his chest. He suddenly felt better, just talking about it.

"My big sis is in trouble?" asked Delirium, when he had finished.

"I'm afraid so Del."

"That's a pe-kyu-lee-airity," said Delirium. "Usually it's one of us who's in trouble. One of us younger ones. The older three don't really get in trouble. They help us out of trouble. This is troubling. Trouble! I like that word."

"Uh, yeah."

"Are you going to get her back?" asked Delirium.

"I want to."

"I thought so. You like her, don't you?"

Jamie said nothing.

"You're blushing," sang Delirium. "I can see your face turning red. That means you like her. It's a human thing. And I think she likes you too. Otherwise you wouldn't be here, you'd be dead. And gone. And, y'know, not here."

"We can talk about that later," said Jamie quickly. "Right now we need to think of a plan to get your sister back."

"I don't like plans. They always turn out bad. Like fish you lock in a car boot and forget to take out until you just keel over one day from the smell."

"We'll never rescue Didi without a plan."

"How bout you do the planning and I tell you when you're going off the right track and headed for a cliff to be smashed to bits on the rocks below?"

"Ok. First things first. Your brother told me to find you."

"My brother? My big scary blind brother? My big hairy lost brother? Or my big used-to-be-scary-but-now-he's-not-so-scary-anymore sleepy brother?"

"Uh, Daniel."

"Oh, him. I'm not sure if he's really my brother. I mean, he kinda is but his mum and dad aren't my mum and dad. I don't think I even have a mum and dad. But he's still my brother. What did he say?"

"He said I should find you."

"Uh huh."

"And...that you'd help. Somehow."

"How?"

"I don't know."

Delirium and Jamie stared at each other. He noticed that her hair was changing colour before his eyes, it was turning into a uniform shade of pink.

"If you don't know then we can't find my big sis and you'll be stuck doing her job forever. Maybe that means you'll become my new big sis. That happened before, you know. Not my big sis but another big sis. She's grey and likes rats but she was red and naked before."

Jamie wasn't listening, he was racking his brains trying to think of what else Dream had said. He had been frustratingly cryptic, and Jamie felt like going back to the gallery so he could yell at him properly. Then again, maybe that's how he _had _to talk, being the lord and master of dreams after all. You didn't usually get a nice big map with detailed pathways to your next destination when you dreamt. But that was of little comfort to him right now.

Eventually he remembered something else Dream said. Find Nobody Owens and Coraline Jones. But why? Maybe Delirium knew.

He mentioned this to her, but she drew a blank. "Who are they?"

"I don't know."

"And how are they going to help us?"

"Your brother just said that they would."

"Let's go find them then."

"Any idea how?"

"You're doing my big sister's job, right?"

"I guess."

"Can you do what she does?"

"A little."

"She always seems to know where everyone is. No matter where they are or what they're doing. They could be up in the stars or hiding at the bottom of caves and she could find them. She always does. Why don't you do that?"

"I...could, couldn't I?"

Jamie hadn't thought about it before, but the more he pondered the idea the more sense it made. But there were problems. Sure he knew where everyone was at every given moment, but that meant it was harder for him to pinpoint a specific individual. Finding a single pair of humans on Earth in a sea of seven billion would be a monumental task.

Still, it was a start.

"Come on, Del. We're going back to Earth. We need to find Nobody and Coraline."

"Yay! Can we stop for ice cream?"

"Sure."

**Jakarta**

**Java, Indonesia**

**Earth**

More so than any other city on the planet, Jakarta overflowed with life. Its roads and highways roared with traffic jams that were miles long while the smarter ones puttered around on ancient motorcycles, bicycles, and sometimes even a pony-drawn trap. More than ten million souls squeezed into a city that sparkled by night but choked on smog in the day, with most of them working bureaucratic desk jobs that kept the rest of the massive country working.

It was also a popular tourist destination, boasting hundreds of visitors who came all year round, from all corners of the globe. The city was also home to many foreign investors and wealthy individuals, and it was a common sight to look up and see a gleaming airplane avoid the Sukarno-Hatta airport that serviced the public and head for the Halim Perdanakusuma airport instead, which were reserved for private flights and government business.

A white Gulfstream 150 touched down on the runway, and a welcoming committee that had been nervously awaiting its arrival hurried to meet it. The plane was only carrying a small group, but whoever they were, they had serious wealth.

"Welcome to Jakarta," greeted an airport official, not daring to look directly at the woman who stood before him. She was taller than he was, with waves of red hair that fell to her shoulders and eyes obscured by designer sunglasses. She was wearing a sharp white suit that almost seemed to glow in the sun, with a short-cut skirt that gave a generous view of her long white legs.

"Thank you," said Cyd Sherman. She nodded at her team. "Let's go."

A limousine was waiting at the airport to take them to the finest hotel in the area. But if all went well, they wouldn't need to stay there for more than a day or two.

The Teacher was in a black mood more often than not these days, and the maddening persistence of death that continued while Death remained imprisoned had left him in a rage. He was devoting all of his resources to tracking Jamie Keane down again, but had been unsuccessful so far.

Meanwhile, another problem was cropping up. Cyd had kept tabs on the other agents hired to strike the terror wave while she did her job in South Africa, as well as monitoring reports from security and police forces around the world. A disturbingly high number of their former operatives were being captured and arrested by the police after a series of anonymous tips. It seemed obvious to Cyd that they had enemies on their trail.

It wasn't easy, and the hit squad or whoever they were hid their tracks well, but bit by bit Cyd had put the pieces together. It eventually turned out to be just two operatives, a man and a woman. Even with the Teacher's resources, both mystical and urbane, she had not managed to identify who or what they were working for. But she knew without a doubt that they were working against her interests.

Let the Teacher worry about his high-minded vision, she would clean up matters on the street level. He had granted her immense magical powers as a sign of his favour following her success in capturing Death, and now there was little she could not accomplish.

Cyd remained silent while the rest of her team chattered amongst themselves and the limousine wove its way through the crowded roads of Jakarta. According to her sources, the man and woman who were hunting down the Teacher's agents were somewhere in this city. She would hunt them down and kill them for daring to interfere, by any means necessary.


End file.
